The Lost Espada
by Jet.2DA
Summary: While Aizen continues to build his army for the upcoming war, a mysterious Hollow is taken in, and Aizen must use every card in his hand to persuade the Hollow to their cause. Some spoilers.
1. Rumors

So! This is the first story I've posted here… yeah…  
Um... Bleach isn't mine, all that good stuff… But my custom Hollow IS so NO STEALING!!

Well, this story was up to date as of the "Turn Back the Pendulum" chapters, but in the 350s, Titi Kubo decided to ruin my story... *tear* You'll see later...

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Rumors

"What is that fortress being built over there?"

"You mean you haven't heard?!"

"Heard what?"

"That fortress is known as 'Las Noches' – it has been under construction for a few years now, but I hear it's finally finished."

"Las Noches you say? But who would want to erect such a building? This is Hueco Mundo! A barren wasteland filled with us Hollows! Why would anyone waste their time with such a worthless endeavor?"

"You really are clueless, aren't you? Hollows are helping with construction to save their own hides; Gillians and Adjuchas are assisting in the hopes of attaining new power!" another voice piped in, a bluish Hollow sort of resembling a frog.

"New power?"

"Yes! And what's even scarier is that the head of Las Noches is searching out the Vasto Lordes!"

"What?! Who would _want _to find the Vasto Lordes?!" the ignorant, green gorilla-like Hollow exclaimed. "Let them remain scattered! If they were to gather, it would mean trouble for the rest of us, just like in the old days!"

"I agree. And, I don't know if it's true or not, but they say He is gathering the strongest Menos Grande in order to start a war against the Shinigami!" replied the red, salamander Hollow.

"That's suicide!"

"To us, it looks that way, but the way I hear it, is that the leader was once a Shinigami as well!"

"What?! Why on earth would a Shinigami come to Hueco Mundo and purposefully search out Vasto Lordes?!"

"Ah, but he's an _ex-_Shinigami. And apparently, he's got some kind of device that transforms Hollows!"

"Transforms them?"

The salamander Hollow glanced around nervously, searching for prying ears, but the closest Hollows were all curled up asleep in the sand. He leaned in closely to his fellows: "He can remove their masks!"

A stunned silence followed before the frog nodded his head:

"Yes, I remember hearing that as well. They say that those whose masks have been removed gain enormous power, and are treated well in Las Noches. The very strongest of them were even given numbers and are now called 'Espada!' And some of them really are Vasto Lordes…!"

"Why would a Vasto Lorde give in to such rubbish?" a fourth voice suddenly inquired, a small Hollow that had appeared to be sleeping nearby, but was apparently awake to hear their talk.

All three flinched as the stranger joined their gossip, hesitating before the salamander spoke up: "P-P-Perhaps they sought a higher power? Even you must be aware that many Menos Grande have an endless thirst for power…"

The fourth Hollow glared back with his one, visible burgundy eye, causing all three to cringe, but the Hollow simply turned to gaze out at the fortress. "I suppose you're right. But I have heard from others that those Menos, those "Espada," do not just take up board in such a massive building, but work under the ex-Shinigami." His eye returned to them eerily: "In a sense, they are his slaves."

"Do you mean to say that even though they removed their masks and gained more power, He is stronger than them? Even the Vasto Lordes?" the gorilla wondered.

"I cannot say for sure, but it certainly seems that way."

There was a short silence amongst them before the fourth Hollow finally stood up from his nest in the sand, stretched similarly to a cat, and began walking off parallel to the massive site.

"W-Where are you going? Do you intend to join their ranks as well?" The frog dared to ask, fearing the answer.

"Of course not," the Hollow replied simply without even turning back to them. "I am merely a wanderer and hope to stay that way. Whatever the ex-Shinigami can do or plans, I want no part of it… I could care less…"

And with that, the three random, weakling Hollows, watched as their superior strode off into the distance, planning on passing right by Las Noches without a second thought…

"There goes one of the last, few good Vasto Lordes in this world… I hope he really can avoid the temptation…" the salamander muttered. Though stronger siblings meant for a stronger chance against their black-clothed enemies, it also meant trouble for the little guys. So many colonies had already been destroyed by the ex-Shinigami's Espada as it was…

The lone Hollow trekked through the sandy dunes easily, long used to the billowing sands that filled Hueco Mundo, his home for many generations now.

The lower class Hollows were correct: this creature was indeed a Vasto Lorde, still in his original guise. He was a pale, burgundy color with tufts of bluish-green fur covering his collar and following along most of his spine, half-way down the tail. He walked on all four, his front legs bearing five claws, one acting similar to a thumb, while his hind legs only had two claws as well as a sharp point at the heel. In the center of his chest, sat a small hole that careened straight through his body; the place where his Chain of Fate had been severed long ago. Strangely, though, bandages covered about a third of his body, wrapped around portions of his legs, abdomen, lizard-like tail, and even over his right eye, concealing it from view.

His pure white mask was shaped similarly to the head of a lizard, or more precisely, like a dragon's skull. There were spikes protruding from the back of the head, as well as behind the jawbone, bearing a few smaller ones under the chin and over the eye. With his long snout protruding from his face came only eight fangs: four on top and bottom, the front four long, the back four simple, though no less dangerous.

He was a very lithe, skinny creature, most closely resembling a small lizard all and all, but bearing a sort of feline grace in his movements.

As he crossed the desert, he ignored the great edifice to his left, staring only ahead with limited thoughts, oblivious to a trio of maskless Hollows that stood not far from Las Noches, placed there specifically to keep a lookout to scout out potentials to add to their lord's army.

There was little hesitation.

"Quick," one of the Arrancar, the leader of the three, ordered another, "go and tell Tousen – we'll go ahead."

The small female nodded before vanishing with Sonido. With her disappearance, the leader and his last companion also shot off at an enormous speed, heading straight for their target…

… _It seems hard to imagine that their fortress could be so enormous. I have been walking past it for nearly two days now and it never seems to get any farther away… Hopefully it will begin to shrink within the next 24 hours, or I shall think it is stalking me!_

The Hollow nearly grinned to himself, slightly amused by his thoughts, more surprised by the fact that he was still capable of producing a smile after all these years.

He stopped.

Within seconds, two human figures appeared before him, tall and rather intimidating, broken masks covering portions of their faces. Neither moved, both intent on staring at him apparently.

The Hollow shifted his gaze between them curiously; for one, these were the first Arrancar he had ever laid eyes on, and secondly, he wondered what they planned to do and if it were going to occur any time soon.

Finally, one of them – the subordinate – narrowed his gaze: "Oh yeah, you're definitely a Vasto Lorde…" he commented softly, though loud enough for all to hear. Apparently he couldn't tell for sure earlier.

It was the Hollow's turn to narrow his gaze this time. He had a feeling that's what this was all about, but had dared to hope by some circumstance it was not the case. _That's what I get for hoping…_

The leader took a step forward, attempting to be polite and proper as he spoke: "Please come with us; your presence is requested within the walls of Las Noches."

The Hollow's gaze did not falter, staring darkly back as the tip of his tail twitched back and forth, much like an annoyed cat. "I see. And if I refuse?"

The subordinate steadied himself, his fist clenching subtly at his sides. His partner was no less tense as they stared back intensely.

His single burgundy eye glowed. _What idiots…_

* * *

The blind ex-Shinigami faced the small Arrancar with slight surprise: "So close? Are you sure?"

"Yes! He is still very distant, but there is no doubt in our minds that he is a Vasto Lorde!" she replied firmly.

"I see. Well done – I shall go inform Aizen-sama immediately. Gather some of the others – and at least one Espada; I feel this won't be as easy as it seems."

With a nod, she disappeared yet again, rushing off to round up a small militia while Tousen headed for the great balcony where Aizen liked to preside.

* * *

Back outside, the burgundy beast was standing tall and elegantly, his tail waving majestically as he looked down upon the fallen Arrancar at his feet, an almost amused glint to his solitary eye.

Both had been taken down rather easily, neither strong enough to take on a Vasto Lorde or even slow it down. They were face down in the sand, their bodies left without a single scratch but unconscious and unable to fight just the same.

_Idiots… _he repeated to himself. Slowly, his gaze drifted back down to his front claws, lifting one as he examined the bandaged area of his forearm: there was a faint red glow, just visible beneath the wraps, but it faded shortly after. _My usual amount would not have been enough to stop them… I must leave soon lest I should be apprehended by more…_

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as his senses went on high alert.

In an instant, the lizard Hollow was completely surrounded by maskless figures, trapping him in their circle of about 20 or so.

None moved.

The Hollow's reddish eye glanced lightly over his visitors, not at all surprised, scared, or pleased.

They all seemed to vary in shape, size, and power, but all adorned a white and black outfit, just like the other two, their styles also varying from person to person, as well as a small portion of the masks that once covered their whole faces. And at all of their sides was a sword, not unlike those that a Shinigami would use.

_From what I can see, they are all a mixture of Gillians and Adjuchas. However, I do sense stronger powers within the ranks… Hmph… it seems so odd to see human-like figures after so long… _

Suddenly a figure stepped forward from the ranks, a human figure that did not have a mask, but wore a strange pair of glasses over blank eyes. Was he blind?

Tousen 'stared' at him for several long moments before turning to the female scout at his side, doubt in his voice: "Are you sure about this? He is nothing like the others…"

Distracted from the sight of her two fallen companions, the scout bowed her head obediently, "Positive, sir… Though he looks and feels different than the others, there is no doubt in my mind…" the scout replied. "It is an unmistakable sensation; being this close only confirms it…"

The Hollow would have raised a brow if it had one; what were they talking about? With a bit of a sigh, the Hollow gazed up at those directly in front of him, including the non-Hollow and gave a single command: "Move."

Nothing.

He could sense a small amount of fear and hesitation in those he looked upon (excluding Tousen), perhaps knowing that he could destroy them with little effort if he so desired, but still they did not move nor speak. _Defiant punks. _

As soon as his mouth opened, ready to order them once more, a pathway began to appear amidst their ranks. However, it was not an exit route, but a path that led straight to another man with no mask whatsoever.

He was not a Hollow – he had the reiatsu of a Shinigami, a power the bandaged Hollow had not felt in many years, but recognized instantly. Adorning a similar white and black outfit with a sword at his belt, the Shinigami approached without hesitation. In fact, the smug bastard was smiling rather confidently as he came to a stop before the Hollow.

There was another Shinigami presence following him, the Hollow could feel it, but could not see them nor the other strong forces that were nearby. He watched as the blind man, obviously a Shinigami as well, appeared to be a little shocked by this one's presence, stepping aside and bowing respectively as he approached. _This must be him, the ex-Shinigami that has taken over these parts._

"Aizen-sama, there is no need for you to partake in this," Tousen spoke gently, meaning no offense, merely wondering why he bothered to come out here for this – acquiring the Hollows had always been a part of Tousen's job, never needing his assistance.

"Do not fret, Kaname," he replied smoothly, hardly sparing him a glance before fixing his eyes on the Hollow. "I simply wanted to be here for this one.

"Good evening," he spoke rather calmly, a tone to match that smug grin as he greeted the Hollow kindly. "Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Sosuke Aizen, the owner of Las Noches."

The Hollow stared back just as callously as ever, unfazed by this man's sweet talk; after watching the man speak, he decided a different route: "Fine, now will you _please _move?"

"How dare you talk to him like that!" one of the Adjuchas at his side exclaimed, moving brashly, but she was stopped both by the Hollow's deadly glare and Aizen's calm hand, which blocked her path.

"Let it be," Aizen asked of the woman, hardly glancing back at her, but she backed away just the same out of respect for Aizen, and out of the inner fear she felt upon meeting the Hollow's infinite gaze.

"I apologize," Aizen said, once again speaking to the Hollow, who was roughly about the height of a zebra, placing him not far from shoulder height compared to the Shinigami. "But I'm afraid I cannot let you pass through so easily without at least hearing me out."

"And I am afraid that I have no interest in what you have to say."

But instead of being even a little disheartened, Aizen's grin seemed to broaden. "Where are my manners? I never caught your name."

The Hollow and Aizen continued to stare eye-for-eye for several more seconds, studying one another… "I am called Triste."

Aizen nodded his head respectfully, "Triste… such a strange name. I don't believe it does you justice,"

"I have come a long way, but my name is no less significant."

"Of course not, I merely find it hard for such a spirited Vasto Lorde as yourself to be deemed 'sad."

_Spirited??_

"Don't you want to be more?" Aizen continued, "Do you really wish to remain behind that mask, hiding from the world while your brothers and sisters grow stronger? Doesn't your true face deserve to be revealed as well?"

Triste tilted his head slightly, still staring into Aizen's eyes peculiarly, hardly liking them. "What the world sees is not always what the world gets," he replied with a sense of deepness to his words. Before Aizen could fully reflect, Triste's head lowered while his right claw took hold of his bottom jaw.

All watched in slight amazement as a wave of power erupted from Triste's small form as he seemed to break his own jaw, pulling it as far down as possible. When he gazed back up at Aizen, they found that Triste had been able to partially remove his own mask; with his mask's jaw barely hanging on its hinges, there, beneath the rest of the mask, was the tip of a human's nose followed by a pair of lips and a small chin.

His burgundy eye was as calm as ever: "I have never needed the power growth that I obtain through removing my jaw, nor has it ever helped me with my 'sadness.' How would a full mask removal change any of that?"

The shock that many of them now bore was not only from the fact that he had been able to do such a thing on his own, but because of his voice. With that part of the mask gone, Triste revealed a secret that none of the other Hollows had sensed: _he _was a _she. _

_He… I mean she… How could she hide her gender like that? We Hollows have a sixth sense to it! I have never heard of a Hollow whose voice changes with their mask! _The female Adjucha thought nervously near Aizen's side.

But Aizen was not at all concerned with that. In fact, his impression of such a feat was reflected by his only response: he merely smiled.

"You should just let her go, Aizen-sama, she is not worth the trouble."

Nearly all reacted to the new voice that spoke up, hidden amongst the masses. Even Triste was a little unnerved by the voice, wondering which of Aizen's pawns was actually speaking out against her.

"I know of this creature," the voice called again, somehow familiar to Triste's ears. "She has a unique ability that allows her to leech off of other's powers, taking their energy for her own. But she refuses to use it."

_Leeches their power? _The original female scout wondered, her eyes returning to her fallen comrades. She now understood how they had been weakened so drastically without a single scratch.

_That voice…_Triste thought, her visible eye following the stares to the crowd behind her, where people were moving out of the way of the speaker.

"She has starved herself for years by refusing to leave Hueco Mundo, taking only what she needs from others in order to survive as she wanders the deserts alone, slowly, but surely, losing her sanity."

It was at that moment when Triste's eye flared, finally realizing who was talking just before they revealed themselves fully.

Triste whipped around in a heartbeat, her body instantly crouching into an attack pose as she glared viciously at the other Vasto Lorde: "ULQUIORRA!!"

The black haired Espada did not flinch, merely meeting her scarlet eye with indifferent emeralds. It was then that he caught a small flash of blue light from beneath the bandages on her face, coming from the place where her other eye would be. No one else seemed to have caught it.

Her back arched to its peak, her Hollow cry bellowing low in her throat like a snarl, even though her mouth was now like a human.

Aizen was hardly fazed by the fact the two knew each other, or the vicious reaction his subordinate got from her, still focused on trying to win over this new Vasto Lorde – especially if Ulquiorra was right, if she had the ability to steal other's energy.

"I suggest you reconsider your position, for if you attack, so will I."

Triste lightened up, but not out of fear. "Don't worry…" With one last glare towards Ulquiorra, her snarls subsided as she straightened up, casting her one eye back in Aizen's direction: "I will not attack him – but neither would you attack me," she pointed out, knowing he valued her strength as a Vasto Lorde too much to put her in any real danger.

And for a second, she was sure she caught a humorous glint in those dark brown eyes of his.

As she slowly turned one paw towards him, an eerie silence befell them, leaving the Hollow and ex-Shinigami exchanging narrowed gazes.

"Perhaps I have a solution to our current predicament?" a voice called from behind Aizen. "Why don't we invite our new friend here to Las Noches and see for herself what is offered before making a final decision?"

Before Aizen could answer his companion, sensing his movements behind him, he watched closely as Triste's gaze shifted to look upon the speaker as he moved into sight – and was very pleased.

As the man came into view, calm as ever, facing Triste with that silly grin of his, her eye widened greatly. It seemed that all of her focus was now completely on this silver headed figure, and her stare lasted many seconds until Aizen's cool voice snapped her back to reality: "I think that's a fine idea, Gin," he spoke, intentionally mentioning his friend's name, reassured by that dumbstruck look that seemed to come over Triste as soon as she laid eyes on him. "Well? How about it, Triste? Come back with us and see for yourself what we are all about. If it displeases you, then you are free to go…"

Triste hesitated, staring long and hard into Aizen's mischievous eyes, sensing a darkness behind his cocky smile, but at the same time, she could not help but glance wearily back at the grinning, maskless fool who had appeared so suddenly.

Her eye darted about, looking at all the maskless Hollows around her, still sensing Ulquiorra behind her, before finally forcing her eye back on Aizen and not Gin…

"… Very well. I accept your offer."

**

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A/N: All right! That was the setup, the introduction... yeah. Feel free to comment, but uh… constructive criticism, if you please. And if there's ever any questions feel free to ask.


	2. Persuasion

**Persuasion**

The floor was hard yet smooth, a texture that she had not felt in centuries; her claws clicked with every step, her good eye glancing about curiously as she peered over the bare, plain white walls. The ceiling towered far above them, the hall relatively wide for so few people that traversed this area, all of which looked funnily at her as she passed.

They were in the living quarters, as her escort had explained, heading towards the more private quarters of the Espada, where she was promised a larger room to herself, with plenty of privacy.

Her escort, the blind Shinigami, was unusually quiet, hardly making the attempt to make her feel welcomed in anyway. He had called himself Tousen, admitting to being an ex-Shinigami like Aizen and that other fellow she'd seen, the one with the silly smile…

"This will be your room," he stood before one of the many doors, opening it easily for her to enter.

The four legged Hollow paced inside gently, annoyed by the clicking; she moved to the center of the room and gazed about, finding it rather empty – it matched the rest of this place.

There was a large rug on the floor, an enormous couch to the side, a table and chair, a fancy mirror on the left wall, and a barred window with a perfect view of the endless moon.

"Does it suit you?" Tousen inquired, though she knew he would neither care nor do anything about it if she was displeased.

"It is fine," she replied easily.

Slightly curious, Triste padded over to the large mirror and saw, for the first time in years, her reflection, her true appearance.

Not much had changed since she last witnessed her own visage: the fur had grown a bit, and her skin was paler, most likely from malnutrition, but other than that, it was just the bandages.

They had been applied not long after last seeing herself, for the scars were deep and burned often, but these bandages hid her true agenda and seemed to ease the pain at times. The wraps over her right eye were the most important, for that wound was the greatest of them all.

Behind her in the mirror, she could see Tousen watching her through those closed eyes…

"I wonder… what were you and that Adjucha discussing when first approaching me? You said I was different…"

"… You are unlike the other Vasto Lordes we have seen. You do not bear some of the same characteristics, nor does your aura resemble theirs."

Her eye narrowed slightly, still staring at herself in the mirror. "Hmm… I suppose I am on the unique side…" Slowly she turned from the mirror and walked into the light of the moon as it shone on the floor; "You are blind, are you not?" she called callously, meaning no insult.

"I am."

"Hmph… you are lucky to have such a gift."

For a moment, Tousen was taken by surprise. "You are the first to think so."

"Then others are fools. Everything has a greater meaning that can only be understood through some abnormality – and to be blind means you can see through the façade of others."

"You seem familiar with such topics," Tousen reflected aloud, faintly impressed.

"I suppose… I am only half-blind myself; one eye sees the world as it is, while the other sees the truth."

"Is the world not true?"

She glanced back at him with half a smirk, "It is as I said before: What the world sees is not always what the world gets. Many truths lie, and many lies speak true. It is hard to know what is right and wrong… Tell me, what part do you play in all of this?"

Tousen gazed in her direction quietly before facing the back wall: "Aizen-sama seeks a better world, one that is right and just… that is why I shall follow and assist him in any way that I can."

Her eye narrowed slightly. "How can you be so sure?"

"Being part blind, you must understand the darkness that overwhelms us. Through Aizen-sama, I have seen the light…"

"The light… it is not always the truth, I'm afraid…"

"Hmph, see for yourself then what true justice is. But only through Aizen-sama can it be accomplished! Think about it…" the blind man snapped suddenly, before turning to leave in a hurry.

Triste watched him go idly, disappointed that she had lost him so easily, the only person she'd had an intellectual conversation with in years, one that should have shared some of her beliefs. _I suppose that Aizen fellow has really had an effect on him… or he's brainwashed, one of the two. Oh well, I guess he is entitled to his own opinion… _

She glanced back at the mirror for a moment, eyeing the bandaged side of her mask meticulously before turning back towards the couch. Testing its softness with one paw, she slowly climbed up and settled into the middle, completely subdued by the comfort it brought her…

* * *

Elsewhere, high atop Las Noches, Aizen sat leisurely in his chair with Gin not far off, both watching as Ulquiorra approached.

"You summoned, Aizen-sama?"

"Yes, I wanted to ask you about our new friend, Triste… How is it that the two of you know each other?"

Ulquiorra was silent for a moment, but soon answered: "We met many centuries ago. Along with a few others, we were the elite of all the Vasto Lorde – possibly the only ones at that time. However, we disbanded on less than good terms."

"I see. And what do you know about her? What of her past?"

There was a definite pause this time as Ulquiorra closed his eyes. Aizen was unsure how to judge this reaction, especially since Ulquiorra was always silent and reserved. Before he could ask again, Ulquiorra spoke up: "I shall tell you what I know.

"As a human, she died in a very secluded area. Neither Hollow nor Shinigami would take her soul, not even those that came within close proximity to her. Her chain of fate eventually broke from the site of her death, and she was left to wander, still untouched by either side. From what I understand, she was a lost soul for nearly two years."

_Two years? _Aizen wondered, _A lost soul lasting that long without being noticed is unheard of. Secluded or not, even small-fry Hollow are found everywhere. _

"It was then that she finally went mad, transforming into a Hollow and consuming an entire nearby village out of starvation. To her luck, that village was full of very spiritual people, and she gained a massive amount of power.

"Corrupted by her hunger, she went from village to village, seeking out more of those spiritual humans, consuming powerful souls everywhere she went. Throughout all of this, she was never bothered by a Shinigami or another Hollow. For months on end, she was left to her own devices with no interruption."

"It seems odd that Soul Society wouldn't have noticed such a powerful spiritual attack," Gin commented.

"After awhile, she became nearly untraceable. After consuming so many rich souls, she could hide her reiatsu from Shinigami and Hollow alike, and became even less conspicuous when nobody died."

"Nobody died?" Aizen questioned, further interested in the strange history of this Hollow he'd stumbled upon.

"Triste no longer needed to eat their soul – she was able to leech the energy directly from living creatures. The process was slow; many humans thought it merely a disease, and the Shinigami found no reason to suspect a Hollow was at fault."

"For how long was she doing this?" Gin asked.

"It is uncertain for how long she was out there – she was near insanity throughout most of it, and she disappeared back into the desolate lands when she finally snapped. However, we do believe there were a good number of years in that time span.

"Afterward, she wandered aimlessly, apparently grieving over all the 'terrible things' she'd done. While lost, something dramatic happened to her and she was sucked into Hueco Mundo. From that point on, she has refused to return to the human world."

There was a long silence between the three of them, Aizen and Gin intrigued by such a unique Hollow history: _Not only was she a lost soul for years, but for decades she fed off of living souls and evaded the Shinigami with ease…_

"What was it that happened?" Gin finally inquired, "What caused her to come back to Hueco Mundo and never return to the human world?"

"I do not know the exact details of what happened, but if what I was told is right, you are mistaken about one thing: Triste did not return to Hueco Mundo. It was the first time she'd entered."

Aizen's interest was finally peaked, his joy obvious to those around him.

"But Hollow's are taken to Hueco Mundo after turning, are they not?"

"There are some cases where the souls are left stranded in the real world, attempting to earn their first meal before coming home. This is what happened in Triste's case, and because she was never threatened by the Shinigami, she had no reason to flee into our world."

Gin and Ulquiorra watched as Aizen suddenly chuckled to himself before rising to a stand, turning his back on them as he walked towards the railing, still laughing softly as he looked upon this massive fortress he had built.

"We have ourselves quite a prize, don't we? Just think… a Hollow that survived in the real world for innumerable years, feeding off of every powerful creature she encountered. And then she came to Hueco Mundo, refusing to return to the mortal world out of remorse… she may be a tricky one to persuade to our side.

"Very well, Ulquiorra – that is all for now."

"Yes, Aizen-sama…" Ulquiorra bowed obediently before turning to leave, all three realizing that Tousen had just arrived.

Waiting until Ulquiorra had left, Gin turned enthusiastically to Aizen: "You seem awfully happy!"

"Perhaps I am? To have her in our midst would make her a powerful ally; none from Soul Society would be able to withstand that leeching power of hers… Kaname, how has our guest settled in?"

"She seems well enough, but I am uncertain of her willingness to join. She appears to be very philosophical, more so than I, perhaps…"

Aizen nodded, "Yes, she certainly appears to be a tough one to crack. Hmm… perhaps we should better acquaint her?"

"What did you have in mind?" Gin's grin broadened.

"Nothing too strenuous: we just need someone with the right attitude to rile her up, and someone else to swoop in and save the day…"

Through a tiny little slit, Gin's eyes almost became visible: "You really like to toy with other's hearts, don't you?"

Aizen merely smiled.

* * *

For about an hour, Triste had been sleeping comfortably on the vast couch, though she was plagued by an unusual dream: she was here, in Las Noches, but she was not alone. There was someone else, someone she couldn't see, but she could hear their sweet voice and smell the salt from their tears…

She awoke to a less-than-gentle knocking at her door, her guest apparently on the impatient side.

She slipped down from the bed and padded easily over to the door which opened automatically for her as she got so close. There in her doorway was a maskless Hollow that she did not recognize from the raiding party, a tall man whose chest was exposed as he stood rather cockily, his wild blue hair accentuating the blue marks around his eyes. The remnant of his mask was located along his jaw and cheek, baring a pair of wicked teeth. He certainly looked like the impatient type.

"It's about time!" he growled, confirming her theory.

"What do you want?"

"I was sent to give you a sort of introductory," he growled, more to himself than towards her. He was obviously just as displeased about this as she.

"Introductory? To what?"

"To this little club we've got going, what else?! What's your name?"

"Triste. And you?"

"Grimmjow. Now remove your jaw and lets go!"

"Excuse me?!" her temper flared at the return of his bossy arrogance, but he wasn't at all afraid.

"I refuse to walk around with a woman when they sound like that!"

Triste's glare remained constant. She had locked it back in place as soon as Aizen's guard had begun the escort, but now that this man 'requested' its removal, she almost felt willing. She was not at all threatened by him, but, after considering the situation a moment, she complied.

Grimmjow watched idly as she practically broke her jaw, letting it dangle beneath her human chin before a feminine voice spoke: "There, are you happy now?"

"Hmph!" was his only response as he moved out of the door. "They say you hide your reiatsu very well."

"I'd like to think so," she replied with slight modesty.

"Just by the power boost you give off during that little trick of yours, it's easy to tell you're of Espada quality."

"And I should be honored by this?" her eye narrowed as she reluctantly followed him out into the hallway, allowing him to escort her through the white halls.

"The Espada are the highest level of Hollow around here, and only ten are allowed in. If a new one comes along, the numbers shift and the old one gets kicked out. Simple enough, right?"

"Oh? And what number are you?"

"Six."

"I see…… And what number is Ulquiorra?" she asked next, apparently not too concerned with this fellow.

His blue eyebrow raised to this question, his scowl growing, "That's right, I heard you had a history with him… He's number four."

To his surprise, Triste smiled at this comment. "Four, eh? So that means there are others stronger than he? Good. Maybe that'll knock him down a peg or two…"

"And what about you? Are you stronger than him?" his gaze narrowed dangerously.

"If you're worried about losing your number, don't be. Ulquiorra is indeed stronger than I, even though we only fought once, long ago…"

"So you think you're stronger now?"

"My strength has not changed much, and with his mask gone, I'm sure his power increased greatly. However, I think I could still par with him…" she replied easily, trying to refrain from smiling at the prospect of fighting the indifferent Hollow.

"Why do you think that?" he questioned, forming his own interest over this new Vasto Lorde.

Her burgundy eye met his evenly: "Our first match would have been a tie had we not been stopped. Any improvements we might make will not change that outcome."

Grimmjow did not reply, but was certainly interested in what she could do. Ulquiorra was considered stronger than he, and if this new comer could really keep up, he was curious as to how well he matched up.

"So where are you taking me?"

"Anywhere, I was just told to escort you around…"

Triste's sigh was loud, not afraid to let her disappointment show. She glanced idly about as Grimmjow continued to aimlessly walk around, not saying a word. "Is there even any point to this?! Are you taking me anywhere specific or should I just return to my room?!"

"Shut yer trap! You'll see in a minute!" Grimmjow snapped back.

Triste gave her own "Hmph!" to this, but continued to follow him just the same. Besides, if her senses were right, the path that had led them here had been altered. She did not know how, but knew just the same that she wouldn't be able to retrace her steps.

Soon Grimmjow was leading her up some stairs, a room full of light awaiting at the top. When they cleared the steps, Grimmjow took a step to the side in order to let her pass him, to see everything clearly.

As soon as she passed through the doorway, she was left speechless. "What… what is this place?"

"This is the heart of Las Noches."

Triste stepped past him lightly, her crimson eye wide with wonder as she glanced all about her, her main focus caught on the ceiling: "The sky…"

"A mirage," Grimmjow spoke up, rudely breaking the enchantment it held. "Aizen had it put there for who knows what reason. From here you can see all of the other portions of Las Noches, where other Hollows reside and work."

She glanced upon the dozens of bulbous buildings and square towers, whose hallways connected to the next, and whose windows had clear view of this brighter place. But it did not interest her like the sky, no matter how fake he claimed it to be. Seeing the bright blue sky and its fluffy white clouds brought back many nostalgic memories for her; it had been so long since she last saw it, watched over by the never-ending night of Hueco Mundo for more years than she dare to remember…

"So what's your deal, anyway?"

"Hmm?" she turned to him almost pleasantly, calmed by this room.

Grimmjow crossed his arms and leaned against the rail with resumed annoyance, looking down at her with very little respect. "Why haven't you been turned yet? Every Hollow that gets picked up is almost instantly transformed."

Her eye flickered for a moment before turning away again: "Because I'm obviously the only one who doesn't care about any of this. Why should we rid ourselves of our masks? Nothing can be gained by it…"

"We receive new power!" Grimmjow growled, slamming one of his fists into the railing, causing the metal to scream.

Triste glared back once again, "And to what end will you use this new power?! Do you really intend on following that Shinigami's every whim? Your new power merely belongs to him!"

"It is MY power!"

"_He_ gave it to you! That binds you to him! You will never be anything but his puppet!"

And with that, a fist flew.

Triste dodged his strike easily, ducking the follow-up, continuously managing to avoid his swift attacks with relative ease – which, of course, pissed Grimmjow off even more.

"What do you know of this power?! You're too scared to try it for yourself!"

"And what would _you _know of fear?!" she snapped hastily, her eye burning brightly with rage.

"Exactly!" Grimmjow grinned wickedly as his fist swept past her shoulder, managing a pressure cut. "I know no fear!"

"Then I shall have to show you!!" she cried out viciously, her snarling Hollow's bellow returning subtly. She crouched into an attack position, her red eye glowing at this point, and as he prepared for a counterattack, he noticed a strange aura coming from her claws.

_Huh?_

Still in stance before the strike, Grimmjow was suddenly distracted by other lights that began to appear on her body: he had easily seen the pink aura at her feet that seemed to emanate from her like steam, but now he could see strange glows coming from beneath her bandages, a peculiar blue light shining from the hidden side of her mask.

And then the most curious thing happened: one of the pink streams suddenly reached out to the nearby rail, circling it ominously before the bar soon began to deteriorate, its particles floating amidst the pink as it flowed back towards its host. The streams and particles went straight to the small cut he'd managed… and healed it.

Grimmjow's eyes narrowed dangerously at this point.

"My, my! What's going on here?"

Both hesitated immediately at the new voice, turning to glance at the doorway they'd just come from to find one of the ex-Shinigami watching them with mild indifference.

Triste's eye widened yet again: _Him…_

Both relaxed as Gin stepped closer, coming up beside Triste easily with that silly smile that made him very hard to take seriously: "Now, now, Grimmjow! You weren't supposed to pick a fight with our guest! We're trying to bring her to our side, remember?"

Grimmjow did not meet his eyes, simply stared off to the side with a "ch" sound, slipping his hands into his pockets coolly.

"Now then!" He turned to Triste: "If we're done here, perhaps I could resume the tour for you?"

She glanced away hastily, hoping to keep her wits about her and not make her feelings so obvious. "Actually, I'd like to return to my room now, if you don't mind. I think I've seen enough here," she commented, meeting Grimmjow's eyes dangerously for a moment.

"Very well," Gin replied easily, not at all fazed. Then again, he never is, is he? With that, Grimmjow watched as Gin led the way back into the inner sanctum of Las Noches, Triste following lightly. The aura around her claws had dissipated, and the blue light had gone out, but, he noticed, a few of the red lights beneath her bandages still had a faint glow. On the railing, a small portion was missing, as if someone had taken a bite out of it. With another "ch," he turned and left in the opposite direction.

"Don't mind Grimmjow, that's just how he is," Gin spoke up lightly, attempting to start a conversation with her.

"That's just the problem – someone needs to teach him a lesson in humility!" she replied, still a little angry.

"If you were to up the challenge, it could be arranged!" he informed her callously. "When Menos have their masks removed, we like to test their strength to determine if they'll be a new Espada."

Triste made no response, but her eye narrowed just slightly.

"Oh! Forgive me! That probably just pushed you further away, didn't it?"

Her eye glanced up at him, curious of his entire demeanor. He always bore that smile, and his tone of voice made that apology seem rather fake. Perhaps it was? Perhaps he knew what he was doing?

"No…" she sighed at last. "Do not trouble yourself with something so trivial. If anything, I'd prefer you be honest with me about everything that goes on here."

"Very well."

As they approached an intersection, Gin turned to go right, but Triste hesitated.

"Is something wrong?" he called easily.

"Tell me… Do the corridors change periodically?" she inquired, staring down the left hallway where she knew that she and Grimmjow had come from.

"Ah! So you noticed, eh? Yes, they change every so often, but you get used to it pretty easily. These buildings are not so complex that you'd get too terribly lost!"

Triste stared off for another second or two before turning to follow Gin once more, surprised to find the bedroom hallway just around the next corner – it had been a longer distance with Grimmjow. Was it because of the corridor change or because he was simply trying to think of a place to take her?

Like a gentleman, Gin walked her to her quarters, the door opening automatically to their approach. And like a gentleman, he allowed her to enter first.

"I'm sorry your tour of Las Noches had to be so short. But if you'd like, I could stay and answer any questions you might have."

Triste hesitated halfway in, glancing back at him wearily for a moment… "I'd like that, actually. Please, come in…" she spoke up, a slight bashfulness to her actions.

As Gin followed her in, she went straight over to her bed and climbed up eagerly, still in love with the comfort it provided. So much better than all those sandy nests.

She watched as Gin went to the table and chair, sitting down in a very relaxed and comfortable position. "Now then! What did you want to know?"

Triste was silent for several seconds, staring at her pillow in thought. "I have heard rumors, but… I wish to know what Aizen is planning."

"I'm afraid that's something I cannot answer, not without your full support," he replied.

"I see. Then answer me this: Are you planning on waging war against Soul Society?"

He cocked his head slightly. "Mmm… it may come to that."

"And you are not affected by this? Waging war against those you once called comrades?"

"I actually prefer to stay out of it, but I will not hesitate to fight back."

"Yes, they would try to fight you, wouldn't they? A deserter who teams up with the Hollow."

"You make it sound like a bad thing."

"It isn't?"

"Aizen is going to bring about a new world order. Sometimes casualties are necessary in order to bring about change, in order to progress. Do you not agree?"

Again, Triste hesitated, but this time because of a painful memory. "No… you are right. But what about those that get hurt? You shouldn't put them aside so freely, so… what do you do for them?"

For a short moment, Gin's smile actually faded, sensing a terrible sadness in her as she stared fretfully at her pillow. "Tell me, Triste… what happened in your past?"

Her head bolted up at this question, staring at him full on now with shock and even a bit of fear hidden within the depths of her eye. But Gin merely stared back, his expression still on the funny side even though his smile barely existed at this point.

Her head turned away again, dropping to the floor, her claws nervously clenching at the bed.

"I don't know how much Ulquiorra has already told you, but…"

Gin took note to this: he hadn't mentioned the fourth Espada – she knew they would have spoken to him about it already.

"I died at a young age in the mortal world, on the outskirts of a tiny village in the middle of nowhere. I was trapped there by my chain of fate for many months, but no one ever came for me: no Shinigami, no Hollows, not even other souls to keep me company. So finally I broke free, and traveled the nearby country, hoping to end my suffering… but still no one came. I saw them all the time, everywhere, but none seemed to even take notice of me…

"It didn't take long for me to go insane with despair – as a result, my chain began to encroach, and I was transformed into a Hollow."

"So you were brought to Hueco Mundo?" Gin piped in, hoping to confirm Ulquiorra's words.

But Triste shook her head softly, "No. Because I'd been there so long, my body was starved, and I…" she hesitated, hating herself for her sins the more she thought of them. "I devoured an entire village. I consumed everything, dead or alive… My bloodlust grew as a result, and I continued to ravage the land, eating everything in my path!"

"For how long did this go on?"

Triste shook her head: "I don't know… I was in a frenzy for most of it, craving more and more souls until there were none left. By the time I found a new settlement, my mind had cleared a little and my powers had advanced: I was then able to drain my victims without actually killing them."

"I wonder… Ulquiorra claimed that many of those first villages bore very powerful spiritualists. Is that correct?"

Her silence was confirmation.

"One of them saw me, once… right before I took his life…" she whispered softly, still able to see his face clearly in her mind's eye. "I could see the fear in his eyes even after I had eaten his soul…" she trembled, closing her eye in hopes that the vision might leave her, but no matter how she tried, it lingered painfully.

"I'm sure Ulquiorra told you the rest," she spoke up again, calming herself a little, "How I slowly drained many villages thereafter."

"Yes. He said that you never took their lives with this method."

"… My only reprieve…"

Gin continued to study her closely. "After that, he was very vague. He claimed you 'snapped' and then wandered off until something else happened," he spoke slowly, watching the emotions in her eye very carefully, "something 'dramatic' he said, that finally brought you to Hueco Mundo…"

Her head dropped subtly, still fearing her past.

"It is indeed vague, but that's how it was… I finally came home to my peers, but after all I'd done, I couldn't bring myself to go back to the mortal world… To this day, I have kept my vow never to return."

A strong silence followed her words, Gin trying to think of what else he could ask that had yet to be answered, while Triste continued to mope in the memories of her past.

"Tell me something," she whispered softly, regaining his attention, "Ulquiorra… what did he say after that? About my time in Hueco Mundo?"

Gin tilted his head once again, curious as to why she asked. Was there more to her story? "To be honest, we didn't ask. Why do you ask?"

There was a moment of stillness before she finally shook her head softly. "It is nothing… Besides, I have told you a great deal about myself with nothing to show for it. Please, tell me of your past."

"Mine?" Gin tilted his head yet again before a bit of his usual smile returned. "I'm afraid it is not as interesting as yours…"

For an instant, Triste also smiled. "Indulge me."

"I can't say I remember my time in the mortal world, but I was taken to Soul Society when I died. I lived on the streets for many years before being accepted into the Shinigami Academy."

"Academy?"

"It's where you go to learn how to use your spiritual power properly so that you can advance into the 13 Squadron."

"And you made it in?"

"Of course! I was Aizen's vice-captain for many years."

Triste's entertainment level dropped significantly at these words. "… Oh…"

But Gin took no offense, and continued with his story: "Aye! Captain Aizen led the Fifth Squadron. Tousen led the Eighth. With time, I was promoted to captain of the Third Squad."

Triste simply stared. "I see… so all three of you were captains when you left Soul Society… I'll bet that left them in disarray… And that's probably why the three of you are able to thrive so well here in Hueco Mundo."

"What can I say? Aizen has amazing persuasion techniques," Gin shrugged his shoulders innocently, though his grin said otherwise. "But you're the first Hollow to _not _want to be a part of all this. Most jump at the chance!"

"I still don't see why…" Triste muttered helplessly.

"It's just as you said: they all want more power. And besides, with the removal of their masks, they no longer have to worry about eating the other Hollows to keep up their strength."

To this, Triste was instantly alert, her forelegs nearly pushing her all the way up in her surprise: "_What did you say_?"

Gin stared back curiously: "Hmm? I said they no longer have to eat each other to keep strong. Once your mask is removed, you can neither grow stronger or weaker according to the amount of energy you consume. You'll only get stronger through normal means…"

Triste was still sitting up, her eye wide as she stared at him, lost in her thoughts: "You don't have to eat…? You mean, I'll no longer go hungry?"

He understood now.

"That's right! Well, nothing that the sand or even normal food couldn't cure you of."

Once again, her eye was traveling back towards the pillow, still in disbelief over what she was hearing. _The hunger… it'll go away? I'll no longer have to worry about it? To starve relentlessly?_

"You…" she muttered feebly, slowly meeting his gaze once again, "you're name is Gin, correct?"

He nodded.

"Is it possible… I mean… Would Aizen be willing to remove my mask for me?"

"Oh! Of course! Nothing would make him happier, I'm sure!" Gin's grin broadened.

"However," she interjected him quickly, before he jumped to conclusions, "I would still like some time to decide whether or not I will join you. If what you say is true, and the hunger will vanish with my mask, then it will be a strong point in your favor, but I still need time…"

"Of course! I will inform him immediately – we could have it taken care of in a few hours if you'd like?"

Triste trembled at the thought, already beyond anxious to have it 'taken care of.' It was not that she minded this form – she rather liked it, really, even if her voice was very manly – but she simply couldn't stand the hunger. For centuries, she has starved herself, taking only what she needed from other Hollows to survive. It didn't matter if they didn't notice her small pickings, it was the fact that she hated to do it, that the only way she could live was to steal other's energy. And by now, it had worn her out incredibly, and all she could ever hope for was to end the suffering… and a way had been offered.

"P-Perhaps longer… er, how about eight hours?"

"Eight?" he questioned as he brought himself up to a stand.

"It's my lucky number, you see, and, and I'd like some more rest first, and…"

"Triste," he called lightly, bringing her nervous stuttering to an end. "Eight it is. However, in seven the Helpers will come and prepare you. Is that acceptable?"

After a moment of staring, she nodded her head rather quickly. "Yes, that is fine… I…I shall miss this form, but this pain I feel… I just want the hunger to stop…"

And for the few following seconds, their eyes met once again on a solid level. Gin nodded easily: "I'll see you later then."

Without giving a formal farewell, Gin slipped out of her room, leaving Triste alone once again, but now with new hopes.

She was not sure how well Gin had persuaded her to their side, but he had certainly convinced her to remove her mask. She did not need the power boost, as she claimed earlier, _but to be free of my hunger… it is the only wish this tortured soul of mine has…_

Alone once again, Triste locked her mask's jaw back in place, feeling better instantly – it was so uncomfortable with the jaw hanging off its hinges. Whole once again, she settled back down into the middle of the massive bed, pulling a pillow close as she closed her eyes once more, ready for one last sleep in this form…

**

* * *

**

**A/N: I just wanted to apologize if Grimmjaw seemed slightly out of character, but he gets better, I promise...**


	3. Euphoria and Misery

**Euphoria and Misery**

Aizen was sitting in his chair, like always, completely alone upon his perch over Las Noches, smiling mildly to himself amidst his thoughts…

"So? How did it go?"

Gin approached just as callous as ever with that same grin of his: "You were right, as always. She has agreed to have her mask removed, but does request more time in her decision."

"I see… How long before she is ready to commit?"

Gin's smile would broaden if it could. "I have already issued the Helpers to prepare her in exactly seven hours. She wishes to be 'freed' on the eighth."

"Freed, huh? It would appear you hit the right button then," Aizen mused as he finally glanced back at his purple haired companion.

"As I said before, you were right. It did not take much to learn a little,"

"Oh? And what did you find out?"

"No more than Ulquiorra revealed, but she at least confirmed all of the more surprising details. I have to say, though, I'm still curious of what made her finally come to Hueco Mundo… and maybe even what happened afterwards."

Aizen met his gaze evenly. "You mean with Ulquiorra?"

Gin nodded.

"Hmm… I don't suppose it would hurt to ask him more, but… let's leave it for now. We shall perform the ceremony and go from there."

"Very well," Gin nodded in understanding.

"As for the ceremony," Aizen added quickly, before Gin could slip off, "let's keep it small. Just us, Kaname, and Ulquiorra."

"Ulquiorra?"

Aizen smiled to himself once again before turning back to stare off at the endless night sky. "Yes… It might be more interesting if we keep those two close…" And with that, Gin slipped off and Aizen was left to continue his musing…

* * *

Eight hours had passed, and the four appointed figures were standing around the semi-conscious Hollow, completely covered in bandages, confined within a glass case, standing limply in the center.

Triste's original bandages were still on, the new bandages simply doubling over it as it covered every inch of her, her senses dulled by an anesthetic that one of the Helpers had given her. She was awake, but almost completely unaware of anything going on around her. What little she could hear was muffled beyond comprehension.

Aizen stood before her, holding the Hougyoku tentatively in his hands. He loved this part of the job. To Triste's left was Gin, calm and smiley as ever, while Tousen stood on the right, calm and serious as ever. Further back, between Aizen and Tousen, Ulquiorra stood in bored silence as Aizen prepared to remove her mask. He had his thoughts as to why Aizen-sama wanted him present, but kept them to himself and did not ask questions. After all, there was something he was hoping to get out of this…

Triste, in the meantime, was lost in a dream of white mists, wandering aimlessly, unable to see or hear anything but distant echoes. The more she wandered, however, the more aware she became of some strange power – a presence that came closer and closer, its strength growing immeasurably.

Before long, she could see it: there was a radiant white light glittering in the mist, shining brighter the closer it came. Triste could not move under its intense radiance, overwhelmed by the power it possessed and the sensations that overcame her in its light. She respected this force and feared it for its immaculate vigor.

Possessed by its light, a voice suddenly came whispering into her mind…

_… Triste… my beloved Triste… I give this gift to you, so that you may look to the future and stop dwelling on the past… let it be your guide… let it bring the light to your eyes… _

Her heart trembled as the voice spoke, remembering these words from long ago. Though she had no clue why they came to her now, it nearly brought tears to her inhuman eyes…

_The light… I want to see it! _She thought desperately as she gazed into the magnificent brilliance before her, a brightness that would have blinded her under any normal circumstances, but now it was just too beautiful to turn away from…

Beyond her senses, the Hougyoku was just barely touching the glass above Triste's forehead, still warming up in Aizen's hand. Finally, when it had reached its peak, the small orb fastened itself to the tips of his fingers, and released a mighty shock through the Hollow's body.

In her dream, Triste was suddenly frozen with absolute fear.

Her soul panicked, matching the pain of a heart attack as the world around her suddenly grew icy cold, and the light before her – that wonderful glow that had sedated her troubled soul – suddenly changed. Through one eye she still saw the wonderful illumination, but through the other, that light bore a heart of darkness, a black spot that caused her whole body to quake… _No!!_

Her bandages went tight under the pressure, several ends flailing about in the winds that enveloped her changing body. There was a slight cracking sound.

All were calm as they stood around her, Aizen still smiling to himself. The process was far from new to them at this point. It was only a matter of time before her mask and the glass cage would fully break.

Bandages began to break and snap, the splitting sounds of her mask increased, as did the power that she gave off – she hadn't even be freed yet, and she was already releasing a power greater than some of the current Espada.

Even residents of Las Noches didn't have to be very far from the chamber to feel Triste's power leaking out. Grimmjow was one of those few, and he recognized it instantly… his fists tightened.

But just before she hit the climax of her evolution, Ulquiorra saw something the others didn't: a faint, blue flash of light.

Suddenly the glass shattered and her bandages all snapped and shot through the air like string of confetti, but it was anything but a party.

As soon as the bandages around her muzzle flew off, her mouth opened wide, releasing a horrific scream that echoed around the room deafeningly, traveling many distant hallways, leaving many stunned by the terrible cry.

It was then that the smug smile finally faded from Aizen's lips.

Her mask was covered with cracks, but only tiny portions chipped off amidst the screaming of bloody murder. Her body, mostly visible at this point, had just finished reverting to that of a human's, making her cry all the more bone-chilling: her scream was a terrible combination of her human self and the Hollow's painful bellow.

A pink aura was soon circling her body and limbs, filled with the same energy that burst from her breaking mask. After what seemed like an eternity, her mask finally shattered, just before the pink wisps could reach the bare Hougyoku.

As soon as the mask had erupted, revealing a head of robin-egg blue, Gin catching a glimpse of her violet eye, wide in pain and shock, her horrendous scream finally came to an abrupt end.

The air went dead and the pink, wispy aura dissipated in an instant as her eye rolled back into its socket; her body collapsed to the floor heavily at Aizen's feet.

A long silence filled the room as they watched her unconscious body lay perfectly still.

It was Tousen who finally moved, taking a step forward and reaching instinctively for her neck – because they were all technically dead, she did not have a heart beat, but by checking the same points, he could feel the soul just the same.

As he stood up, he confirmed that "She is unconscious. That is strange… none of the others ever passed out from the ceremony."

"It's unusual, but nothing to fear," Aizen replied as he slipped the black orb back into its protective case, back into his robe. "The removal took too long – she wasted most of the energy she was gaining."

"She used too much," Ulquiorra corrected him, speaking for the first time since joining them. "That is why that aura appeared – it was searching for food."

"That would explain why it tried going after the Hougyoku," said Gin. "Her body must have instinctively gone after the object giving off the most energy,"

"What do you suppose would have happened if she'd been allowed to connect with the Hougyoku?" Tousen dared to ask, leaving all curious.

"Hard to say… but it is a risk I'm not willing to make," Aizen replied steadily.

What _would _have happened? Would she have been allowed to drain its power? Would it relapse back into slumber if it had worked? Or was the black orb safeguarded from such an attack, possibly with its own counter measure?

"We're through here. Send in the Helpers to finish things up," Aizen commanded before leaving the room, slipping out a back door.

Following orders, Tousen went back through the common door, where assistants were already on standby, though many were shaken by the events that just passed.

Soon it was only Gin and Ulquiorra, who gazed upon her naked form for only a short moment before meeting eyes with one another, Gin's grin as out of place as ever.

"Pretty exciting, huh? I've always been curious: what is it that you experience under the Hougyoku's presence?"

Ulquiorra glanced back down at Triste as the assistants gathered around her, covering her with a large sheet as they placed her on a stretcher, her wild hair covering much of her face.

"Euphoria."

"Hmm… Then what do you suppose caused her to react like that?"

As Triste's body was being carried off, Ulquiorra turned to take the same door as Aizen: "Many would find it a gift… She calls it her curse."

Gin cocked his head curiously as Ulquiorra drifted off, knowing the Espada would say no more. Shrugging to himself, he slipped out the common entrance, leaving things at that. Aizen had asked him to have Ulquiorra check in on Triste when she awoke, but it was not necessary – Ulquiorra would go on his own.

* * *

… _Triste… my beloved Triste…_

_What are you…? Are you… going to kill me…?_

_You wretch! You're lucky to even be here! If he had any sense, he would devour _

_you! Or at least let us have your worthless carcass!_

"_Why? Why must you go now?!"_

… _He is gathering the strongest Menos Grande in order to start a war _

_against the Shinigami!_

_That's impossible! Lies!!_

"_You can't! Do you really think he is fit to take your place?!"_

_Why don't we invite our new friend here to Las Noches and see for herself what _

_is offered before making a final decision?_

_Pathetic._

"… _Please… somebody kill me… I just want everything to stop…"_

_What do you know of this power?! You're too scared to try it for yourself!_

… _Look to the future…_

_Are you here to take me to heaven?_

A violet eye slowly blinked open, the room spinning around her. As it comes to a stop, Triste finds she is still very confused, her memory muddled, her body tingling.

_What… what happened? Where am I? I…_

Her thoughts faded fast as she went to brush some hair out of her face, remembering everything in the instant she laid eyes on a human hand – _her _hand.

She brought both hands to eye level shakily, her body stiff but compliant; there they were… two, human hands with human fingers and arms attached, her skin on the verge of a tan.

She was lighter than she remembered.

Very slowly, Triste managed to push herself up from her bed, sitting straight up in a position that was impossible before, due to the existence of her tail. _My tail…_

She glanced back, her hand feeling around on the sheets before caressing the flesh on her lower back and even along her buttocks, unable to find even a trace of her once precious tail.

Triste removed the sheets from her completely, taking a moment to look over this new body, a body she didn't even have when she was alive.

When she died, she had skin the color of wet send and hair as black as a raven; not only this, but she hadn't even reached the double digits when she passed on. She did not have this long, slender yet muscular build, nor the breasts that now protruded from her chest.

Very carefully, she pivoted to the side and allowed her ten, individual toes to touch the floor – it was smooth and cold.

Testing her strength, she slowly managed to push herself to a stand, weaving to and fro in her battle to gain equilibrium, to adjust herself to the balance of a bipedal. After running around on four feet for so long, to suddenly be on two legs again was beyond mind blowing. The only thing that did not bother her was the height, for she couldn't be more than an inch or so taller than her Hollow form.

After a few minutes, she was finally able to walk – it was sloppy, but she could move, and only practice could make it easier.

Getting better and better, she finally decided to walk across the room, with nothing to catch onto should she stumble. But where could she…?

That's when it hit her. There, on the far wall, was the decorative mirror that had caught her attention before, and now proved too great of a temptation. Her face… what did it look like?

Still adjusting, the work seemed easier now, but her determination to reach the mirror made her face increasing speeds – a new challenge.

Finally, she reached the wall and followed it to the mirror, her anticipation growing with every step. This was it… this was it!

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and felt her way in front of the mirror, placing herself head on so that it would be one great surprise… _Ready… now!_

"_No, child, I'm afraid I can do no such thing."_

_Oh… but… I'm so lonely here… I can't find my mommy or daddy… Do you _

_know where they are?_

"_Sorry, but I do not know…"_

_Well… what about them? Would they know?_

Triste turned away from the mirror with all her strength, panting terribly, her head swarming with images and voices: the boy's innocent face, his sweet voice, his sorrow, the approaching danger…

Regaining control, Triste realized she would have to be careful this time.

Raising her right hand, she covered up the remains of her eye, the one that had been hidden until now.

Tentatively, she came to face the mirror one more time.

_My face… my human face… so this is what I've become…_

Her face was heart shaped, with a proud nose, rounded chin, and plump lips, her eye possibly her best feature amongst it all. At this point of her eternity, she had no recollection of her parents, and so had no idea if she resembled them – to remember one's previous life was extremely rare as it was, so to be able to recall as much as she could was nothing short of miraculous.

Her one good eye was a rich violet with just a hint of crimson around her iris while her thick, wild hair was light blue – major changes since the time of the living, but then again, these were the same features she bore as a Hollow. Speaking of her old form, like the other Arrancar, there were remnants of her old mask still attached, all along the right side of her face.

Starting at the middle of her chin came the bottom jaw of the mask, following her jaw bone all the way back to her cute little human ears. The two bottom spikes were still there, frayed beneath her ear lobe, while the rest continued along the front and top of her ear; part of the sleek, bare bone was still attached to her skull, hidden amongst her hair, that provided the anchorage of her two large spikes along the top of her skull, that reached back similarly to Ulquiorra's spike.

With her free hand, she ran her fingers along the jaw line, feeling its slick, smooth texture that had never been feasible to her in the Hollow form, which was mostly made up of rough hide and scales.

But now it was time to face her despised secret, one she had taken great lengths to hide. Very slowly, her fingers began to move away from her lost eye, remembering every little detail before it was even revealed in the mirror.

With a deep breath and stern concentration, she removed her hand completely.

Her breath was shaky, afraid that if she faltered more haunting visions would come back, all because of that blasted eye!

A loud knocking sounded at the door, distracting her from her own visage.

Realizing she was still nude, Triste fumbled her way back to the bed where she wrapped the blanket around her, taking a quick moment to brush as much of her hair over her right eye as possible, feeling around to make sure it had been concealed just before the door opened.

In came a single, female Arrancar of small stature with a rather sullen look about her, putting on a fake smile as she met eyes with Triste.

"Ah, you're awake."

"H…How long… w-was I out?" she stuttered, her voice unusually crackly and hoarse.

"A few hours, at least. Most unusual: no one ever passes out after the transformation. But I suppose with all the energy you were releasing, it was only natural," she replied easily, becoming a little more friendly the more she talked.

The nurse was several inches shorter than she, with scarlet red hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, dressed in one of the many black and white ensembles – Triste noticed none of them were the same. Her eyes were a lighter red, as were the twin streaks that crossed over her nose and right cheek; there was a very small amount of her mask remaining, just little pieces following the left border of her face, including two downward spikes on her jaw.

Triste had little idea what this nurse was talking about, but, somewhere in the back of her head, she faintly remembered feeling her energy running amok… and then she remembered the fear, the screaming… the black heart.

"I've brought some clothes for you. Please put them on so that we may have a short checkup on your status."

"I… don't understand…" her voice was beginning to return.

"Well, if you have no complaints or worries about your body, all you have to do is put these clothes on and several nurses will assist me in checking your vitals and everything. Aizen-sama requests check-ups on all new Arrancar to make sure the transformation was a success, and then you can move on."

Triste was a still a little skeptical about all of this, but decided not to fight it. Taking the clothes, she waited until the nurse stepped out before releasing the blanket. With no other choice, Triste slipped into her new clothes, not at all surprised to find it was mostly white with black detailing.

Covering her legs were a pair of white pants, her feet adorned with the only thing that didn't change in design between everyone else: the shoes. Her top was much like a dress in the fact that after it reached her waist, there was a train that flowed down the right leg, covered in strange, symmetrical black markings. As part of her top, the neck and around the short sleeves were black, a black belt wrapped comfortably around her midsection, while a white cloth seemed to drape from her left sleeve, following her arm past the elbow.

Ah, clothes… another experience long forgotten.

It was a peculiar outfit, for sure, but at the same time, she could not help but like it: the markings on the 'skirt' were interesting, the color balance seemed to fit, as well as the balance between the train on her right and the sleeve on her left, which also, in her opinion, matched up very well with the large spike coming from out of her head.

Checking herself out in the mirror – and making final adjustments on her hair situation – she welcomed the knocker at her door in, assuming it only the redheaded nurse coming back to perform their checkup.

When the door opened, however, what cheeriness she may have accumulated was instantly wiped away. It was Ulquiorra.

There was silence between them for several seconds, neither moving, simply staring eye-for-eye, Triste's a bit more of a glare.

"The medics are here to check on you," he finally spoke up, walking further into her room to allow the nurses through the doorway, the red head at their lead. "Do not give them any trouble."

"Please have a seat on the bed," one of the nurses called, Triste hardly hearing them amidst her trance on Ulquiorra, but with a 'hmph', she walked over and sat down easily, allowing them to perform their check up, confused by the strange electronic devices they brought with them.

"So they convinced you?" he finally spoke up again after a while. "I would have thought you needed more than a few hours."

"I have not entirely given up my freedom. I had my mask removed, but I told them beforehand that I still haven't decided."

"Please hold still," a nurse whispered gently as she checked on the condition of her soul (again, much like you would for a living heart).

As soon as the nurse finished, Triste glanced up at Ulquiorra, almost timidly; "Tell me… did it really work?"

He knew she was referring to the removal of her mask. Hell, without ever being told, he knew the reason why she agreed to having it done at all – he simply thought it would take them longer to discover her weakness.

"It's hard to say," he replied as indifferently as ever. "Your mask is gone, but you had a bad reaction to the Hougyoku."

"Hougyoku…?"

"The device Aizen-sama uses to rid us of our masks and give us new power."

Triste went silent to these words, wondering if that is what she felt in her dreams? Could it have been that light she'd seen? The one she had been so attracted to? But what about that black spot, hiding within it? Was it part of the Hougyoku, or something else…?

"I saw something… when I was in there I saw a light, but… it was 'cut in half'…" she said, giving Ulquiorra a peculiar look.

"… What happened to the other half?"

Her eye glanced around at her surrounding nurses, making sure they weren't paying as much attention as her paranoia would leave her to believe: "It had a black spot."

Ulquiorra did not respond, nor give any indication that words had even been spoken between them, simply staring back as callous as ever.

As the nurses began finishing up their work, Triste felt she could no longer hold back: "Tell me… why are you here with these people? Why are you helping them, and to what end?"

No answer ever came from his cold gaze, and she knew he would not give one.

"All right, we're all done and you seem to be in perfect health!" the red head smiled at Triste, still trying to be friendly. "All that's left is your face. We just need to…"

"No!" Triste jerked away from the nurse's hands as they reached towards the hair that dangled over her hidden eye. "That is enough!"

"But we…"

"I said no!" Triste exclaimed yet again, causing them to take a step back in apprehension, her reiatsu flaring for just a moment. They knew of her strength – they had felt it during the change – and knew she could kill them if she felt like it. And considering how most of the Espada were, the smallest things are what got most of them killed. "Mark what you see and nothing else – let me have _some _dignity left in tact!"

The nurses hesitated, knowing they would get in trouble from their boss, or facing the fact they might get killed on the spot rather than later.

"Leave it. You are all dismissed, on my orders," Ulquiorra suddenly spoke up, as if reading their thoughts.

Nervous, the red head nodded before turning to her fellows and ushering them out. She glanced nervously back at Triste and Ulquiorra, who were once again staring at each other with less than pleased expressions, before slipping out of the room. On her chart, she wrote down what Triste had hoped for: missing/disfigured right eye.

As the two were finally left alone, Ulquiorra questioned her secret:

"Why do you hide your gift?"

"It is no gift, it is a curse to forever bind me in my own misery… My past, present and future… my innocence… my sin…"

"I'm surprised you're still alive – suicide seemed probable after you acquired it."

"You would have liked that, wouldn't you?" she glared. "Though my life is wretched and worthless, I am not so cowardice as to take my own life. Besides, as much as I hate the blasted thing, I could never bring myself to get rid of it, to let it simply die…"

Ulquiorra simply stared yet again, "You always were a sentimental fool."

To his surprise, she smirked at this remark – he was expecting a glare and retort.

"Yes… just as he always said… it's one of the reasons I was given my name after all,"

"Yes, because you could not remember your true name. Not after all the mental breakdowns you'd been through."

To this, he finally got his glare, but where a retort should have been, she only confirmed it: "I suppose so. It's kind of funny to think that after all the time I spent with you and the others, none of you ever accepted me. Even now, you make the effort to insult me at every turn. Why is that?"

There was a moment's hesitation before Ulquiorra gave his half-assed answer: "Why not?"

Triste did not reply, leaving things at that as she remembered arguments long since passed, and one particular word that always popped up when Ulquiorra was involved: _"Pathetic."_

"Come – it is time to give you a _decent_ tour of Las Noches since it seems you're going to fall into their hands like they want."

"What?! I told you, I…"

"Believe what you will, but I know you. Show a little compassion, and you're a puppet before you know it."

"How dare you!!" she yelled, jumping to her feet hastily, but barely taking a step before collapsing to the floor, her body still too new.

Ulquiorra just stared at her fallen form, "Just as pathetic as ever," he commented, confirming her memories. "You always thought the King took you in out of good will, but you were just another one of his puppets."

"Shut up!" she cried out, now standing on hands and knees, her fists balled up tightly.

"It's the truth – you were just too blind to see it for yourself. That's why he gave you that eye, and that's why you should you use it, to prevent it from happening again."

A simple gasp was her only response this time. Had he… was he actually trying to get her to leave? To keep from falling into Aizen's hands unlike himself?

"Why…?"

"Come; it's time for your tour."


	4. Judgment

**Judgment**

Lost beyond comprehension, Triste continued to follow Ulquiorra throughout the depths of Las Noches. Every once in a while, he explained the purpose of the department, but for the most part it was as quiet as the time she'd spent with Grimmjow.

While out, they had run into many other Arrancar, several of which were Espada and Priveron Espada. Some acknowledged her, others…

"What was _that_ look for?"

"She is from the Priveron Espada," Ulquiorra explained as Cirucci Thunderwitch passed by, a scowl on her face as she walked by Triste. "You are not a threat to her unlike the current Espada."

"Hmm? You mean because of the shifting of numbers?" Ulquiorra did not respond, but she knew it to be true. "So… you actually think I would make the cut, huh?"

Again, no response.

"Ulquiorra!" a voice suddenly called out as they entered a new corridor, finding an unusually tall and large man walking towards them, muscular all around with a broad chin and a broad grin across his face. "Acting as escort are we?"

Ulquiorra's eyes closed.

"So this must be the potential Espada I've heard about!" Yammy grinned eerily, taking a step closer in order to look over her. Triste watched him with uncertainty, curious but untrustworthy of this new Espada, who looked upon her as if she were a mere decoration. "Hmph! I'm not impressed."

Her eyes narrowed. "An Espada, right? What is your number?"

Yammy chuckled to himself to hear this woman talk to him so freely. "Don't worry your pretty little head off over that! I…"

Ulquiorra's eyes opened almost instantly as Yammy spoke, quite aware of what was coming.

Before Yammy could even finish his next sentence, the only thing he could do was grunt in pain as Triste managed to grab his arm and twist it around his backside, holding it in a quite painful position, rendering Yammy practically useless.

Considering her slow adjustments to this new body, she reacted incredibly fast, and her physical strength seemed unreal for such a small physique.

Ulquiorra merely blinked before sighing faintly. Triste hadn't changed much over the years, it would seem… Any time somebody talked cutely to her or made her feel like she was a simple female (like the 'pretty little head' comment), she would often perform a feat like this, just to prove otherwise – it had surprised he and the other Vasto Lordes back in the day, one of the few violent outbreaks she would get. However, she did manage to hold back this time: she didn't break the limb she was torturing.

Triste's glare burned into his back: "You shouldn't judge others so quickly. I asked for your number – nothing more."

Yammy did not give a feasible answer, simply growling and grunting, his anger growing as he soon found out he could not break away from her, her tiny arms overpowering his large muscles.

"Triste," Ulquiorra's cool voice suddenly called out, gaining her attention easily, though she did not let go. After meeting his gaze for a moment, she released Yammy's arms, the Espada breaking away from her quickly to prevent it from happening again. He was ready to start more trouble, but Ulquiorra's hand raised between them, stopping him instantly. "Isn't there something you should be doing right now?"

Yammy hesitated a moment as he met Ulquiorra's distant eyes. With a "ch" he stormed off in another direction, leaving a last warning to echo behind him: "Don't think this is over!"

In no time, the two were once again traveling alone down the endless hallways. "Ulquiorra… are all the Espada so eccentric?"

His eyes glanced her way, but he made no reply.

_I've gone so many years with limited contact with other Hollow; to be here, surrounded by so many with varying personalities… I thought I was lonesome before, but maybe I've been better off. Most of the ones I've met so far are on the angry, violent side…_

Ulquiorra had a guess she was thinking such things, and could only wonder what it would be like if she were to meet all of the Espada: Gimmjow and Yammy were two of the worst she could possibly interact with, along with Noitra who was out with Neliel, scavenging for more Vasto Lordes in the distant colonies. Of course, the others who were more laidback like himself, did not show themselves and remained indifferent.

Finally they were back in the dormitory halls, Triste hoping this tour was coming to an end soon: not that the tour wasn't a learning experience for her, but this new body of hers was getting worn out after all this time. "Where are we going now?"

"Back to your room," he replied, much to her joy. "I will have food sent to you immediately after."

Her interest perked up at this remark: "Food?"

"Real food. You have not eaten since the change – you will need it before you are judged."

She blinked curiously; _Judged?_

He knew she was confused: "When you are pitted against the other Arrancar to determine your place amongst us… Or do you still claim to have a free mind of your own…?" he asked cynically, turning to meet her eyes but finding her no longer beside him. He glanced further back to find Triste several feet behind him, staring wide eyed at the door beside her.

Ulquiorra approached slowly, finding her eyes locked on the door, almost in a trance – a faint, blue light was glowing beneath her locks of hair.

_This room… it is vacant. What is it that she could be seeing?_

Suddenly she gasped aloud, breaking out of the trance and collapsing to her knees on the spot, her right hand grabbing at her cursed eye as it began to emit smoke, the glow a little bit brighter than before.

But Ulquiorra did not react. He simply watched her fall without a single care, noticing the small trail of smoke that protruded from beneath her hand. "What do you see?"

Triste did not answer immediately, still replaying the images in her head even as new ones appeared before her. "This room… who is in there?"

"No one – it is vacant."

But still she saw these images, knowing without a doubt this all happened in _this _room… Was this something from the past? No, what she was seeing couldn't possibly be from the past, it had to be the future… _But that still makes no sense…_

"I see somebody… a young woman… she's so sad…" her voice trailed off; the girl looked troubled, staring at the moon with saddened and desperate eyes, tears on the verge of spilling. She did not say anymore, lost as to why her eye was activated when it was covered, compelled to keep these images to herself, the future sufferings of a _human _girl in the world of Hollows…

In her mind, the girl gasped aloud, turning to find none other than Ulquiorra in the doorway, followed by servants pushing trays of food into the room. They were talking, but she could not hear them, only able to sense the growing desperation in the girl's heart as Ulquiorra played with her mind. Finally, the girl ran towards him and slapped him across the face – and Ulquiorra slapped her back, dropping her to the floor.

That was the last that she saw of them, and by the end of it, she had heard a single word out of their conversation, just before the slap: _"Pathetic."_

Triste trembled for a moment, lost by what she had just seen. And what about the other images that flashed by? She was seen with Aizen at least three times, the girl uneasy and eerily compliant throughout all of them… What was Aizen's interest in the poor human? What was going on…?

"Ulquiorra."

Her body flinched in response to the voice.

Ulquiorra looked away from Triste, finding two figures striding towards them at a casual walk: Gin and Aizen-sama.

As they got closer, they watched Triste curiously, wondering why she was on the ground, grabbing at her face. "What is this?" Aizen finally asked, knowing better than to believe that Ulquiorra might have done this.

Meeting his eyes only for a second, Ulquiorra returned his gaze to Triste, finding the glow and smoke gone from her eye. "She is still growing accustomed to this body. I feel she has not yet fully recovered from the transformation."

"Hmm… Her transformation _was _different," Aizen admitted, though rather indifferently.

He remembered a lot of the first Hollow he tried the Hougyouku out on, the test runs he had made in order to prefect the art before applying it to those who would someday become Espada. Some turned out well, producing moderately decent Arrancar. The less fortunate were often left in pieces around the room, exploding under the pressure. Though Triste did not pull through smoothly, she didn't have to be scraped off the ceiling either – it was marked as a success.

As Triste began steadying herself, ready to push back up to a stand, she was shocked to suddenly find another figure right beside her. Her head moved swiftly, finding none other than Gin right beside her, offering his hand in assistance.

She had to struggle not to blush in someway.

A little wearily, Triste accepted his help and took him by the hand, letting him pull her back to her feet.

As soon as she grabbed his hand, Ulquiorra closed his eyes while Aizen smiled.

"There! That's better!" said Gin as she steadied herself once again, slipping his hands back into his sleeves easily. "No harm done, I hope?"

"Uh, no, I'm fine…" she replied, failing to hide the stutter in her voice for a moment. With a sideways glance at Ulquiorra, she assured them she was "Just a little woozy, that's all. To go from a quadruped back to a bipedal after all these years is really taking a toll on me…"

"Then we shall have to get you more acquainted," Aizen smiled. "It is time to test your new power; but first, I'd like to give you this – call it a gift for your new body."

Reaching into his robes, Triste watched in obvious confusion as he pulled out a katana blade. The sheath was all black and the handle and guard were very plain to say the least.

She had seen all of the other Arrancar carrying swords, but never quite understood. Even now, she was at a loss. She glanced back at Ulquiorra (who still had his eyes closed) and Gin (who merely grinned as always) for support before looking straight into Aizen's smug smile, fearing, for a split second, that she had almost been attracted to that devilish smile of his.

Finally, with no alternatives, Triste took the sword from him.

The instant she touched it, her entire body reacted to the power flowing through the blade, filling her with a new kind of strength that actually felt warm and familiar.

Only after the power surge had subsided did she notice the katana had changed: the guard was now gold, a beveled diamond of eight spokes, while the colors of the hilt changed to a burgundy and gold pattern, the tie string also changing to gold.

After all of this, all she could manage was "What…?"

And in that moment of silence, a voice resonated in her mind, a strong, masculine voice that called out her name: _"…Triste…"_

A shiver ran down her spine. _Who…?_

_"Do not be afraid, Triste… I am not your enemy. I am a guide and a companion if you'll have me."_

Her hand brought the sword close to her now, sure that the voice came from it; _Who… who are you…?_

The others watched silently as she muttered the name of her zanpakutou, the image of a mighty hawk appearing in her mind's eye: "…Horus…"

"Your zanpakutou will allow you to call out your original Hollow powers," Ulquiorra suddenly spoke up, deciding to be the one who informed her about this gift, and ultimately, to warn her: "Your strength will increase dramatically when it is released, but it will increase your need for energy."

Triste flinched at these final words, understanding the true meaning of his advice – and so did Aizen and Gin.

"Come, we have already prepared for you," Aizen spoke up once more, calling their attention to him as he led the way down the hallway they'd just come from.

Still a little nervous about the whole thing, Triste followed apprehensively, not at all comforted by either Ulquiorra or Gin.

"So!" Gin suddenly spoke up after a short distance. "What do you think so far?"

Triste was hesitant to answer, her feelings still unclear about all of this.

"With all the tours you've been on, you must have met quite a few of the other Arrancar! Some Espada, surely," he went on, apparently aware that she wasn't going to answer anytime soon.

"Uh, yes, a few," she replied.

"So? Where do you think you stand so far?"

Triste did not answer right away, which Ulquiorra took notice to. "I cannot say for sure… I'm afraid my only response to such a question makes me out to be arrogant and egotistical, but it is a truth that I have come to know: nobody can kill me, nor can I kill anyone…"

It was this comment that Aizen took note of.

Gin tilted his head at such an answer, confused and curious of what she could possibly mean: she cannot kill anyone, yet nobody can kill her?

It was not long at all before the four of them finally reached their destination, Tousen already there and waiting patiently. They emerged onto a small balcony overlooking the center of Las Noches, where Aizen's fake sun shined down on them from above. A throne was already in place for Aizen near the edge, while the rest walked forward in order to look upon the battle ground.

She trembled where she stood.

_All these Arrancar… they're here to watch? To see who overpowers who?_ Though she could not see them all, of course, she recognized a few faces that she'd seen before: the female that had first insulted her out in the desert, the red-headed nurse, even Cirucci, Yammy, and Grimmjow – some of the last Arrancar she had ever hoped to see again. So many Arrancar filed into this small arena, a series of stadium seats lined up for them all to sit on and watch – as if this were set up purely for their entertainment!

Her spine tingled once again.

Suddenly Gin leaned in close, whispering with a genuine confidence in her: "Your first opponent will be Gantenbainne, a Priveron Espada – don't worry, he should be a pushover for you!"

His words certainly rose her spirits, but just couldn't shake off this nervousness. _That's not what I'm afraid of though…_

_"Do not fear them, Triste. Remember, I am with you now. If you ever need me, simply call…" _She stared down at her sword, still unused to a second voice in her head, especially one that was manly and supportive… but why did she feel so warm when she heard it? Why did it feel so… familiar?

With hardly a moment to spare, Tousen called out for this 'Gantenbainne' character to step forward for the first fight.

A small cheer went up from the crowd, excited that things were finally going to start. They had heard about this new Arrancar and were anxious to know where she lie in their ranks.

With her opponent already out in the ring, warming himself up, Tousen turned to her almost darkly, 'requesting' she get down there: "Go."

When Triste still did not move, he took it upon himself to use a sort of force: with a hasty leap towards her, he pulled his zanpakutou and swung it at her ankles, forcing her to jump out of the way and over the edge of the balcony.

"My! Impatient, are we?" Gin teased the blind man, but Tousen made no attempt to defend himself as he sheathed his sword.

Everyone watched with great anticipation as Triste jumped down to the sands below, landing surprisingly well – she contributed her swift dodge and graceful landing to the new strength provided by her sword, Horus.

_All right, Triste, _Aizen thought from his seat, _let's see what you can do. _

Gantenbainne strode forward cautiously, waiting for an attack, but Triste seemed more occupied with her zanpakutou, holding it delicately in her hands as she gave it her full attention.

_Horus, I don't want to fight…_

_"It's all right, Triste, nothing can touch you while I'm around. I will protect you and give you the strength to defeat your enemies. If I can, I shall to adhere to your beliefs."_

All watched as Gantenbainne made the initiative, charging forward with his fists powered up…

_My beliefs… The code by which I have lived by since I first came to Hueco Mundo… what good is it anymore in such a world as this?_

All stared in disbelief as his fist struck dead on, punching her full in the abdomen… and yet she did not react to him, still intent on her sword as her body only slid about four feet in the sand, still standing.

_"It is everything, Triste. You did horrendous things as a savage Hollow, but you learned to keep your victims alive, and in the end, you did what you could to save that boy…" _Triste's eyes widened instantly. _"Yes, I know about that. I have watched over you since day one, and even though you left the mortal world, I could still sense you here in Hueco Mundo… I know of you Triste, my child of the sand… Do you remember me?"_

Gantenbainne just blinked curiously as Triste continued to ignore him, completely unfazed by the blow she was struck. He had a bad feeling this could be a dangerous fight…

Just then, Triste finally looked up from her sword, staring back at the man with the afro with just as quizzical a look. He watched as she lowered her sword finally and began tying it to her belt, securing it tightly before meeting his gaze once again. She was ready now.

Again, Gantenbainne prepared to attack, still confused by this Arrancar, who seemed ready yet did not move. Nevertheless, he charged forward once again and punched her in the shoulder, causing her to skid another few feet but still unfazed. _What is she? It's like she doesn't even acknowledge my hits! _

From the balcony, Aizen watched ever closely…

Now he was getting angry. The least she could do was acknowledge him! He charged in again, ready to hit with more force… but this time she dodged. Again he struck out and again she dodged.

Again and again, Gantenbainne threw his special punches at her, but none seemed to have any effect. Rage growing, the Priveron pulled out his Ciento Punches, only to watch in amazement as she either dodged or deflecting every single one of them without even breaking a sweat. On the final blow, her hand caught his wrist; his surprised eyes only able to stare into her one, calm amethyst.

"It would appear she's finally grown accustomed to that form!" Gin grinned.

"Yes, but let's see what she does with it," Aizen replied, interested in what she might do now that she seemed ready to attack. Beside him, Ulquiorra stared, also mildly curious…

Wrist in hand, Triste flipped over Gantenbainne's head, bringing his arm around with her in a most painful direction; as her feet came down, she kicked at his shoulders, forcing him face-first into the sand. As she landed, one foot on his back, she gave his arm a horrible twist, producing the heart-wrenching sound of breaking bones – a sound that thrilled most Hollow. She had broken his elbow and wrist, and dislocated his shoulder.

A painful yelp rose up from the beaten Gantenbainne, while the rest of the Arrancar cheered rather heartily. Some, however, felt disappointed in the fact that she did not finish him off. Upon damaging his arm, she merely walked away from him.

Triste was already heading back towards the balcony, ready to make the jump and leave this nonsense behind when, to her dismay, she caught sight of Tousen signaling to someone in the crowd.

Shortly after, the ground shook as another Arrancar hopped into the arena.

The crowd's cheers did not falter with his presence, the Arrancar actually laughing to himself as he popped his knuckles eagerly.

Her eye slowly came around to look upon her new opponent, finding a massive Hollow standing there, grinning rather stupidly. "So! We meet again!" he smiled smugly. "Time to pay you back for earlier!" Yammy growled.

Triste's expression did not change. _They don't waste any time, do they? They see I'm stronger than a Priveron so they throw an Espada at me. If they make me keep fighting, who knows who'll come out next…?_

Triste slowly came back around to face him head on, taking it upon herself to move a little closer, but not much, waiting until some Helpers removed Gantenbainne from the field. Her fingers fiddled with her sword.

"What's the matter?" Yammy called, "Need to draw your sword already?!"

"Hmph. I wouldn't need his help with the likes of you."

Yammy, instantly offended, made a small battle cry as he charged after her.

Ulquiorra sighed; _He'll never learn, will he? Besides, simple fighting types like Gantenbainne and Yammy are not suited to fight someone like Triste. I believe Aizen-sama would be the only one to truly defeat her if they were to fight… _his eyes glanced over at Gin, whose smile seemed genuine as he watched. _Or perhaps a surprise attack from someone close…_

Just like Gantenbainne, Yammy's fist made direct contact with Triste's torso, his enormous hand nearly covering its entirety. But like Gantenbainne, Triste let him hit her; her body slid about ten feet this time, obviously pitted against a stronger force, but no more effective for she simply continued to look at him with that vacant gaze of hers.

His following war cry was much louder, his anger reaching new heights as he unleashed his powerful cero against her, the large blast flaring brilliantly as it approached her at such an enormous speed…

Above them, Aizen and Gin's smiles seemed to broaden.

The cero, as powerful as it was, had absolutely no effect on her.

She stood as calmly as ever in its path, but as it drew closer, her body was surrounded by a pink aura, something very few of the witnesses recognized. The aura expanded to the same expanse of the cero, acting as one large shield that stopped every inch of the blast from getting past Triste.

Everyone watched in, at least slight, awe as the thin, translucent pink shield took the blast with little to no effort. And as they continued to watch, they found the pink aura was beginning to swirl, transforming into a sort of tornado, sucking the cero in and funneling it straight into Triste's body.

An eerie silence befell the 'stadium' as the last of the cero was sucked into her body, the pink aura disappearing with it. Yammy stood, apparently shaken up, while Triste acted as if nothing ever happened.

Suddenly, her body disappeared.

Yammy's eyes widened: _Sonido!!_

By the time he sensed her movements, it was already too late. She reappeared right behind him, suspended in midair as she twisted her body around, allowing her foot to make contact with the back of Yammy's head.

Everyone could _hear_ the impact of her foot against his thick skull, sending him flying across the sands, eventually slamming into a far wall where several bystanders had been, just barely escaping Yammy's projectile body.

_That aura of hers protected her completely before absorbing the attack, transferring its energy directly into her body… Surely Sonido could not have done this to her? _Aizen wondered, watching closely.

After kicking Yammy into the distance, she had dropped to the sand easily on one knee, but she seemed to be having some difficulty; her body appeared to be shaking, while one of her hands was pressed over her lost eye.

_That cero…_ Triste thought to herself, _it was definitely stronger than most. But my aura does not usually react like that – it shouldn't have had enough power to deflect it AND absorb it… Horus?_

_"Yes, Triste, it is because of me." _Her sword replied easily. _"How are you feeling?"_

_All right, I suppose… But I think I lost more energy in that attempt than I gained… and my eye is starting to hurt again…_

_"Come, let us leave and rest for a bit. Perhaps Ulquiorra will still have food brought to your room – that will help ease the tension."_

Agreeing with the second voice in her head, Triste came back up to a stand calmly, no longer trembling. Her eyes trailed up to the balcony, finding Tousen's usual blind gaze, Gin's usual grin, and Aizen's entertained smirk. Beside them, Ulquiorra was staring just as indifferently as ever; when they met eyes for but a few seconds, Ulquiorra was instantly aware of her intentions.

Ulquiorra turned away from the balcony edge, hands in pocket as always, giving him his casual walk.

"And where are you off to, Ulquiorra?"

He stopped slowly at Aizen's call, turning to find one of his eyes looking back at him carefully, though still entertained from Triste's performance. But Ulquiorra was not at all perturbed. "Do you intend on continuing this display?"

He did not answer, but his eyes seemed to narrow just slightly.

Ulquiorra faced forward again; "It would be better to stop now, and allow her to eat. If you mean to push her further, continue this another day or it will only hurt your cause."

Some of the smile disappeared as he considered Ulquiorra's words.

"It looks like it may be too late for that."

Both glanced Gin's way as he spoke, finding him still watching the field; when they followed his eyes, they found the same problem he did.

Triste was walking away, seeing an exit beyond the crowd; _Finally, I can take a break from all of this…_

_"… Triste!!"_

She turned on the spot, her arms crossing to defend against the fist that flew at her face. Her eyes widened: "_You_!"

"Not leaving already, are you?!" he smiled wickedly just before throwing another punch.

Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed. _Grimmjow._

Triste blocked his punches repeatedly, sensing the considerable strength difference compared to Gantenbainne or Yammy, feeling her energy slipping away with every blow. Unlike the others, she could not ignore his hits so easily.

_Is this the difference between numbers? Can a few measly numbers make such a huge difference?!_

A powerful kick sent her skidding several feet, her breath growing heavy. She glared up at his wicked grin; "Stop this. I'm not fighting anymore."

"Why? Too scared to fight me?! I thought you said you could beat Ulquiorra!"

"I don't want to fight! Especially against a warmonger like you!"

A powerful kick sent her flying about thirty feet through the sand, sliding on one hand and foot as she skidded through the sand, an even pant to her breath now.

"What happened to you? Before, you were calling me a puppet, and yet here you are just as maskless as me! What changed?" he mocked as he strode forward cockily.

"Shall I stop him?" Tousen inquired. Ulquiorra and Gin turned to Aizen, waiting to hear his answer, but his eyes were fixed on Grimmjow and Triste.

"No, not just yet. I want to see what she'll do…"

Grimmjow was upon her by the time she pushed herself back up, her body unstable. His eyes glared down at her as he stood cockily; "Ch… What a waste of time. You may have beat Yammy, but it looks like that's as far as you'll get. You were right all along – you _aren't _a threat."

Triste did not reply, keeping her head hanging as her body attempted to calm itself. Her hair dangled loosely and her arms hung limply at her sides.

He scowled in contempt, pissed off that he had actually been interested in fighting her. He had watched the other two bouts, increasing the desire to face her, especially after seeing how she handled that cero. This was supposed to be _fun_!!

"Come on!!" Grimmjow exclaimed, wanting to throw another punch or at least kick her again out of frustration if not to get her to fight back. Suddenly he reached out and grabbed at her hair, pulling it up, forcing her to meet his eyes; "I thought you were going to show me fear!"

Grimmjow stopped instantly, his eyes wide in suspense. _What the…?_

There, on her face… her burgundy eye was glaring at him with a new darkness, while the lost portion she always kept hidden was suddenly revealed to him. _That eye… what the hell is it?!_

He was stunned by what he saw, never seeing anything like it before. Around the rim of the eye was a thick shell that spiked off, greatly resembling part of a Hollow's mask with a golden glow to it, but the eye that it surrounded was out of this world. The iris was large and blue, thick lines stretching from the corners of her eyes to meet the iris in the center, while the pupil was white with a black cross in the center, like a crosshair.

It shifted about uneasily at first, completely separate from her left eye's movements, before finally fixing itself back at Grimmjow, piercing through him like an arrow.

In an instant, his head was filled with lost images and noises, voices that echoed from the past, memories that had long been forgotten or otherwise put aside. His soul lurched with several of these memories, remembering things he wished he hadn't, even recalling instances that occurred before his transformation into a Menos, before the individual known as Grimmjow was even born, tapping into the thoughts of various Hollows that had combined to form this new entity.

For as long as these instantaneous flashes went on, there was a point when Grimmjow's body trembled out of instinct.

"Is something wrong, Grimmjow?" her voice slipped out eerily as her eyes continued to bore into him; she was no longer pulling at his memories, but he was still in shock over the things that filled his mind, his soul actually recognizing every single bit. It wasn't until she began to speak that his senses were coming back around, but the sound of it made him no more comfortable than the memories had. Her voice called out again, whispering intensely with a tone more devious than a snake: "You wanted me to show you fear, didn't you? Well this is what you asked for… how does it feel? To recognize instances long since passed?"

His arm began to shake, his senses returning just enough to know that he should hate this woman, to let his rage grow and take vengeance for what she has done to him!

"It's not pleasant, is it?" she went on, her voice a little more normal this time. "Imagine seeing these things all the time, whether they're your memories or not… That is the first gift of the Eye."

Grimmjow's fury only grew, his free fist shaking with the desire to break her nose, jaw, and, even more so, her eye; "That eye… I don't know what you did to me, but you're going to regret it!!"

And then, just to piss him off even more, Triste smirked.

"Give it your best shot!"

None of the witnesses were able to hear the words exchanged between them, not even those closest to their location, while a very, very small few caught a glimpse of her eye – not enough for them to see its entirety or even make out what it was, but for those who caught sight of the pupil, they too felt their souls tremble. They did not undergo the same torture as Grimmjow, for her eye was not focused on any of them, but they felt their insides go cold just the same.

"What do you suppose is happening?" Gin cocked his head, a little disappointed by the sudden stop in action. "Can anyone hear them?"

None answered, for none could, but their desire to know was just as great. Ulquiorra was the only one with the slightest hint of what was happening, and only because his senses could feel the familiar aura that leaked from Triste's eye, recognizing the power of the lost king. Grimmjow had seen it, he was sure, and was now using all of his mental power to overcome the effects of the great eye.

Their interest was suddenly piqued once again as Grimmjow was sent flying backwards, skidding through the sand like Triste had done so many times before, while Triste herself was found flipping in the air elegantly before landing on her feet, standing tall and firm once again.

She began striding towards him, her hair covering up most of her eye again, but portions were still visible. Grimmjow simply waited, unable to understand the sudden change in her and still confused by that wicked eye he had seen.

She stopped just several feet from him, glaring at him wickedly: "I still feel no regret."

"It would appear Triste has finally resolved to fight," Tousen muttered under his breath.

Grimmjow soon began throwing a barrage of punches and kicks, much like the other two, and Triste was deflecting every single one of them without so much as a sweat. It seemed strange though, Gin noticed, considering how exhausted she looked at the beginning of Grimmjow's assault, and how she now seemed refreshed and able to fight. _I wonder if this is connected to her inability to be killed? _

Beside him, Aizen was also considering her sudden recovery, while Ulquiorra knew it was her eye that had given her the second wind. Unlike the past though, when he had seen her use its power, she would use the eye's strength to fight. But now it was different: now she was fighting him with her own might and the eye was merely a safeguard.

After a short while of defending against his enraged assault, Triste was beginning to throw punches back. Grimmjow defended against them just the same, but soon it was turning into a real battle of brawn with fists and kicks flying from both directions, both parties having to know when to attack and when to dodge.

Aizen was smiling to himself once again as he watched their high-speed battle closely. _This is getting to be pretty impressive… She is proving to be quite capable in close-combat, and that leeching ability of hers is able to absorb high-powered attacks. She will be quite an asset in achieving our goals…_ he thought to himself, actually feeling a sort of pride to think of her as part of the Espada, already able to see her overwhelming many of Soul Society's specialists. However, he could not help but think about Ulquiorra's words. Though she was performing excellently, he was reminded of the risk: _"If you mean to push her further, continue this another day or it will only hurt your cause."_

"Hmm?"

Grimmjow was perhaps the best person to fight her hand-to-hand like this, to bring out her full potential with his undying bloodlust. Despite her increasing attacks, he was keeping up flawlessly. But after so long, it was getting rougher, and her attacks were intensifying dramatically.


	5. Uncontrollable

**Uncontrollable**

Aizen's eyes narrowed as he watched, sensing something strange about her all of a sudden. Suddenly he could see it: a strange red glow was starting to appear on her arms, growing more intense as actual shapes seemed to appear on her flesh, becoming clearer the longer she fought. Even from beneath her clothing, he could see more of the red glow.

"That glow… would do you suppose it is?" Gin wondered aloud, none of them really able to get a good look due to all the movements, but able to see them just the same.

"She is changing…" Tousen suddenly commented, his heightened senses and instincts feeling a 'change' in her as she fought on. "I can feel it… she is growing scared. She cannot stop herself."

Triste was pounding away at Grimmjow, leaving him almost purely on the defensive due to the force behind every blow, her expression having changed from indifference to desperation; he, too, could sense the fear in her eyes, but her fists kept coming, and he did not turn down a fight.

"What are those symbols on her arms?" Aizen finally asked, glancing back at Ulquiorra, who had not spoken since the fight began, but watched just as closely.

"She is hungry."

Blink.

"If you remember, I explained how Triste does not eat other Hollows, and only leeches what she needs to survive. When Menos do not eat, they are burned by those symbols. It is why she was covered in so many bandages when you first met her, to conceal them and help ease the physical pain. As she fights, it grows worse. By now, she is starving…"

His eyes suddenly met Aizen's, a cool seriousness to them, a grave warning in his voice: "It would be wise to call Grimmjow back."

Tousen turned to Aizen, a hand resting on the hilt of his zanpakutou; "Shall I?"

There was a short silence, Aizen still staring back at Ulquiorra before finally resting them on the fight once again. "No," he replied at length, more or less shocking those around him. "I'm afraid I'm still interested to see what happens…"

Unfortunately for Triste, this meant she was still at the mercy of her hunger, and her body refused to let up. She had not been in a fight like this in so long and knew, deep down inside, her body was as excited as Grimmjow, but her fear was growing with the burning sensation in her arms. She could feel all of them, attacking her flesh like so many times before, but still she could not stop. She could hardly think amidst all the action, and Horus's words were lost to her.

Probably the greatest issue at hand was the fact she was fighting Grimmjow. Anyone else would have ceased by now in reaction to her wrath, but she had to get the one fool who was excited by this wild behavior.

Though Grimmjow was indeed shocked by the appearance of those symbols – even those who never went hungry knew about them, and many feared them for the intense amount of energy they could drain – he was not about to give up on the first real fight he'd had in a long time. If anything, he was just seconds from releasing his zanpakutou in order to start a whole new kind of battle. He had no idea what her release would be like, but he was well willing to find out!

In fact, drawing his zanpakutou sounded pretty good!

And he was not disappointed.

Without any indication, his sword was drawn and ready to slash her across the torso – and her own sword blocked the attack easily, deflecting it to the side before managing to graze his cheek with its sharp edge.

His grin widened wickedly.

The fight was soon escalating to new heights, and many of the other Arrancar were growing excited with every blow exchanged.

But Triste was still terrified, unable to control her own body, aware only of what she could see and the savage thirst that built up inside of her, pushing her body to a whole new degree as she fought the over-excited warmonger.

_Horus… Horus…!_

_"Triste!"_

_Help me, Horus… I want it to stop! I just want it all to stop!!_

There was a moment of silence, a stillness that made her nervous, afraid she had lost him again.

_"Triste… do you trust me?"_

She hesitated at these words, a cold shiver running through her. The way he spoke just now… _Horus?_

On the outside, the battle raged on; blows were still being exchanged at an amazing pace, appearing as blurs to many, completely invisible to the weaker ones. The match seemed to be quite even – whoever came out ahead would surely dictate her final number.

_Hmph. She seems to be slowing down… _Grimmjow realized after another minute or so. She was not reacting to his attacks any less, but she seemed to be losing her enthusiasm, almost returning to a defensive stand. "Don't think you can back out of this so easily!" he growled viciously as he lunged at her, ready to aim a dangerous blow.

Aizen's breath faltered, actually feeling some kind of reaction in his lungs. _This air……Triste…? _But none of the others seemed to notice the change, not even Ulquiorra, who seemed the most knowledgeable and intuitive of the new Vasto Lorde.

As soon as this strange sensation passed, Grimmjow's sword aimed straight for Triste's heart… her sword lashed out at the blue-haired beast, a powerful shockwave sweeping across the sands, knocking Grimmjow back nearly thirty feet, completely stunned by what just happened; hair, cloth, and the very petite flew as the shockwave hit the audience, finally striking all with the same wind that had hit Aizen just moments before, leaving them just as stunned, as if the air had been sucked out of their lungs for an entire second.

But Triste was calm as she stood with her sword still straight out to the side, her entire body still as she glared at Grimmjow through partially concealed eyes, her wicked eye glowing blue.

"Illuminate… HORUS!!"

Light flared from the blade of her zanpakutou, a harsh radiance that blinded them like the light of the sun – the cry of a powerful bird echoed across the sands, screeching powerfully in their ears. The wind picked up all around her, spraying sand in every which direction, a sandstorm raging throughout the arena… all of this because of her sword's release.

After a short while, the winds finally slowed and the light faded; the audience slowly began to reopen the eyes, adjusting to the glare before finally seeing what lay beyond…

Just as any who first lays eye on an Arrancar's transformation, all were transfixed by the sight of such a magnificent creature, born from incomprehensible means.

What was revealed to them as the light faded was beautiful in one word, and mind numbing in another, her piercing eyes enough to stop even the most vicious of beasts.

Grimmjow, directly in this new monster's path, was struck dumbfounded as he took everything in.

Regaining bits of her original form, Triste was standing on all four, her back legs stretched out far while the front two crossed delicately in front of her, her fingers once again sharp talons in the sand. At her back end, her beloved tail had returned, now three times longer with spiked spines at the end, whipping back and forth fiercely through the air.

Of the remainder of her mask, the jaw seemed to stretch out further now, the two fangs about an inch longer now, while both of her spiked horns protruded dangerously from the back of her skull – including the set that had disappeared during her transformation into an Arrancar.

Other than that, there was little reminder of her previous form unless you counted the large masses of blue fur that flowed along her body, but these were not as anyone remembered. Before, they had been simple tufts of fur, now, there was a mane that flowed down her spine from her hair all the way to her tail until the spines began. But the biggest change was in the line of fur traveling from her wrist past her elbow, a train that was at least ten feet long and made up mostly of feathers bearing the same color.

From the way she now stood, these 'wings' were spiked up into the air, almost shining in the light, the edges almost razor like.

Her figure was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and Grimmjow could not help but be once again drawn in to her eyes… That devil's eye that still radiated a blue shine was now accompanied by the glow of her burgundy eye, which was now painted into a peculiar design, almost similar to the pattern of the other.

Both were glaring as she bared her fangs at him (the real ones inside her mouth).

_What the hell… I can't believe she actually released her zanpakutou! But what's up with those wings? And her eyes… why did the other one change?_

From the balcony seats, the four were just as impressed with her new form, but saw something that many did not have the right height to see. Filling the entire arena was a series of black marks in the sand, a shape that none of them recognized, but felt its power just the same.

"What do you suppose that is?" Gin's head tilted as he studied the shape. "It looks like an eye."

And he was right. Surrounding Triste and Grimmjow was an enormous, fanciful eye that, with a closer look at Triste, they would recognize as the same design that now encompassed her left eye.

Ulquiorra stared intensely at the new Triste, studying her new form. _Why did she transform? Why does she have wings? … Come, Triste, show us what you'll do next. After all, you are still in great pain from hunger… _

"So!" Grimmjow finally called out, regaining his confidence at the prospect of fighting a battle between two released Espada. "Finally ready to go all out!"

Her glare was never ending, her clenched teeth parting only to proclaim one thing: "No… It ends here."

Grimmjow, to his great misfortune, hesitated as she spoke. He thought she was finally ready, but she seemed more determined to stop than before. And now that she was in her released form, he could hear some of the masculinity that had tricked them all in the beginning. In other words, when she talked in this form, both the old, manly voice and her correct feminine voice could be heard, fused together eerily, giving her voice an almost godlike reverberation. Both of these factors are what ultimately cause him to lose – if he had managed to release his zanpakutou, even in that tiny timeframe, he might have stood a chance. But he didn't, and Triste made her move.

Right before his eyes, Triste vanished without a single trace. _What the hell?! I didn't even see her move!!_

Just as his thoughts concluded, a searing pain shot through his back, turning just in time to meet her wicked eyes.

With an unnatural speed, Triste moved to his backside, making herself visible just long enough for the audience to watch one of her wings slice through Grimmjow's flesh, blood spraying from the wounds. He stumbled, confused by her speed; with a sharp twist, Triste's tail slammed into Grimmjow with a tremendous force, several of the smaller spines piercing his flesh.

As he stumbled yet again, Triste's back feet pushed off the sand, flinging her whole body at his back, her front claws outstretched, her wings spread wide as she tackled the injured Espada to the ground, forcing him into the sand.

From his seat, Aizen came to a stand, all four watching intently; even members of the general audience stood in anticipation, more excited than anything else unlike their superiors upon the balcony, who all sensed something major was about to happen.

With her prey detained, the glow in Triste's eyes grew brighter.

"… Infectar…"

In a dazzling spectacle, the wings on her arms suddenly spread out to their full extent. As they opened, hundreds of the feathers broke off and were sent hurtling through the air, spinning round and round like a twister. From Grimmjow's back, Triste cried out like a fearsome bird, the same cry that was heard when she first changed.

At the call, the feathers dispersed and shot through the air like tiny arrows – and like arrows, they were all aimed at the surrounding audience. Every single feather that broke off sought out an individual and attached itself harmlessly to its target – not even the present Espada were able to escape the feathers, and just as baffled about them as everyone else.

Only one Espada was spared: Ulquiorra.

As soon as he had realized what these feathers were doing, he was the only one aware of the danger behind them. Four feathers had shot towards the balcony, one for each of them, but before Aizen could destroy them himself, Ulquiorra's sword slashed through the air perfectly, cutting all four feathers, rendering them useless as they fluttered in the air for a moment before disintegrating in a teal fire.

There was a moment of sustained confusion as Triste did not move and the feathers all found their targets, the bearers unable to remove them through any method.

"So strange…" the red-headed nurse muttered to herself as she tried to remove the blue feather, but found it stuck to her clothing. Those beside her were struggling intensely with theirs…

"What do you suppose she is doing? What is she planning with those feathers?" Tousen asked, apparently able to tell they were feathers through his blindness.

Aizen stared down at her for a moment, her demeanor completely serious at this point. "Isn't it obvious?" His eyes turned back to Ulquiorra, knowing the Espada was just as aware considering he made the effort to block them from her strange attack. "She is still starving; she pushed herself too hard in the battle, and now she means to make up for all that lost energy in one single blow."

Gin was perhaps the only one who could smile at this point; "She's going to drain them."

Triste relaxed and sighed deeply, closing her eyes in remorse. "Forgive me…" she whispered faintly, her voice melancholic. A wispy, pink trail of energy suddenly appeared around her body, a small trail following her legs down to Grimmjow while the rest began rising up into the air before finally coming to a stop several feet above her; "… Privar."

In an instant, the pink aura that floated ominously in the air served as a lightning rod as hundreds of strings of the same pink aura connected between the tip and all the feathers in the arena. In an instant, all those in the vicinity were being drained of their power and energy, rendered completely useless and immobile as their strength was sucked out of them and transferred directly into Triste.

With so much power flowing into her at once, the burning symbols upon her sides and arms vanished within a few seconds… but she did not stop.

Aizen glared. "Ulquiorra."

The Espada disappeared in a flash.

Triste could feel the surplus of energy flowing through her, soon realizing she was experiencing something that had never occurred in her Hollow life: she was full. No, she was stuffed beyond belief, far beyond anything she had ever experienced before.

Content, she released her pink aura easily, stopping the whole process from continuing any further; her eyes flared.

In a flash, she was ten yards from Grimmjow's body, watching as Ulquiorra landed right beside him – she had seen him coming, she had felt his intent to attack… _Ulquiorra…_

At this point in time, all of the pink aura had disappeared, and the blue feathers imploded without a trace, leaving all the victims in a stupor.

Triste blinked rapidly as her sanity came back to her, as the full impact of what she'd just done slammed into her brain. She closed her eyes tightly, shaking her head roughly as one of her hands rubbed at her opticals, forcing their power back…

From the balcony, Aizen watched as the giant eye in the sand began to fade, the black markings returning to their original color.

In another flash of brilliant beauty, all of the fur and feathers upon her body shed in a mere two seconds, fluttering magnificently in the wind before dissipating completely, as if they never existed in the first place. Her body was engulfed in another flash of light, much less severe than the first, but painful to the eyes just the same. When the light cleared, Triste was back to normal, standing shakily on two legs, her palms completely covering her eyes as she continued to shake uncontrollably. "What have I done…?" she whispered softly to herself. "What have I done?!"

As Aizen continued to watch from his perch, he decided now was the best time to send in reinforcements: "Gin."

As soon as his name was spoken, the ex-Shinigami disappeared from his presence just like Ulquiorra. At a time like this, it was not necessary for Aizen to explain what he wanted them to do, all that was needed was the names of those he wanted to go and they went without question.

At Ulquiorra's feet, Grimmjow had finally recovered and was now pushing himself back up. At this point, his rage was already set: he had been injured so easily, unable to fight back before feeling his powers being leeched from his body. _That bitch… _His eyes turned to find Triste standing in the distance now in the middle of a mild freak out.

But that did not stop him. As soon as he regained his bearings, he jumped up to his feet ready to fight again – _I'll teach her to fuck with me!!_

With only a few steps taken, Grimmjow was stopped by Ulquiorra's sudden appearance before him, the quiet Espada holding him back with little effort, but an intense stare. His fists tightened – Ulquiorra wasn't about to stop him, not now!

But before he could act, he was distracted by the appearance of Gin on the field. Even Ulquiorra turned to watch, curious of her reaction…

The ex-Shinigami approached Triste easily, wondering how much longer she would hold her eyes shut in this 'mental breakdown' of hers. Before he could say anything, anything at all, Triste reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt violently, her Espada strength catching him off guard as she shook him roughly, still lost in her own angst.

"You lied to me!!" she screamed the instant she grabbed him. "You said it would go away, but the hunger is still there! It's still there!!" she screamed again, a whole new helplessness in her voice as she stared at him full on.

Gin was unable to respond, however, stunned by her fierceness and desperation, completely lost under the gaze of the demonic eye, an eye that had been covered up since day one, assumed by all to be lost, and yet here it was, blazing into him…

It did not take long before he could feel some of his energy being leeched from his body, sucked in through her fingertips as images came fluttering into his brain. Voices, thoughts, memories; so many things he had forgotten, things he had buried, things he held dear… For several seconds, he was suspended under this powerful effect, lost to her eye's abilities as more of his energy was sucked out of him – it was a small amount, especially compared to how much she had just taken in, but it was because of that, he knew in the back of his head, she was unaware that she was doing it at all.

She was freaking out just moments before because she had gone against her code – she took far more than was needed, using a power she detested. She was still lost to that anxiety when she first grabbed him and still was at this exact moment. She was losing control – losing herself.

Her demonic eye flashed blue right as she released him, actually pushing him back just before a powerful force came crashing down on her as if gravity had suddenly quadrupled; her 'heart' beat raced under the pressure, and every single ounce of her knew without a doubt that this was Aizen's power. Her eye had seen it coming, knew that it was him, but even without its help she could tell this was not the reiatsu of another Hollow, that this power carried his scent. _So this is Aizen's strength… this is why… this is why they follow him…_

Too mentally weak to withstand it any longer, Triste collapsed to her knees and her head began to throb horribly, both eyes actually beginning to burn; she cried out in agony as her head was suddenly filled with some of her worst thoughts, memories, and nightmares… Even after Aizen's attack had ended, she was still lost, gripping her skull tightly as her cries of anguish continued to fill the arena.

Ulquiorra, now within feet of her, could only watch with usual indifference as she wailed in agony and misery, consumed by her own torment… _Perhaps she has been right all along… that eye really is a curse… _

In the next instant, Grimmjow was standing beside them; Ulquiorra moved to detain him, but was unable to stop his first blow, a powerful strike to the head that had apparently knocked her out, for she fell forward into the sand, instantly quiet after all of her lamenting.

Just before Grimmjow could kick her, his foot already pulled back, a hand ever so gracefully landed on his shoulder, stopping him cold.

It was Tousen, staring with narrowed eyes as if daring him to go through with it. With him came Aizen, walking casually towards Ulquiorra and Gin as they stood over the fallen Vasto Lorde.

Around them, the Arrancar took this as a sign to disperse and leave the area…

No longer a threat, Tousen released Grimmjow and approached as well; the five of them stood over her body as if she were a beaten dog, simply watching and sensing her vitals: she was definitely unconscious, but her 'heart' beat was erratic and her powers were fluctuating abnormally, her torso shaking with every deep breath she took.

Aizen's eyes flashed around at his companions: Tousen seemed more distrustful than usual, while Ulquiorra, he guessed, was deep in thought as he stared indifferently. As he looked to Gin, however, he found his cheerful friend was no longer smiling, but staring down at Triste with an unusual seriousness, also lost in thought.

"Gin?"

He met Aizen's eyes for a moment, but still did not smile; "I'm fine. She didn't take very much," he replied, referring to the energy she had stolen.

Beside him, Tousen knelt down and took hold of her shoulder, pushing in order to roll her over onto her back – not even halfway back, Tousen released her quickly, grunting as he jumped back to a stand, a hand grasping at his right eye. Aizen watched curiously, confused by this reaction until he glanced back at Triste to find an unusual surprise.

_What kind of eye is that? _He wondered idly, hardly perturbed by it. He'd never seen the likes of it before, and the scientist in him could not help but want to dissect and study it. The urge only grew as the eye, open despite her lack of consciousness, suddenly began to move of its own free will, her crosshair pupil darting back and forth, watching them, following their movements.

"What kind of devilry is this?" Tousen muttered beside him, his hand slowly moving away, Aizen realizing that his eye was swollen shut, his glasses darkened as if they'd been scorched.

_Devilry indeed_, he thought to himself as he turned his attention back to the wicked optical, only to be stared at right back, the eye stuck on him, watching, studying; the rim began to glow blue…

"Ulquiorra… What is this eye of hers?"

Ulquiorra did not look away. "It is an ancient Hollow relic; a remnant from our lost kingdom."

"Kingdom?" Tousen questioned. Behind him, Grimmjow, who still lingered, still angry, turned his attention to Ulquiorra at these words, listening closely…

"Yes, from a time few Hollows remember or even lived through. That eye was a gift from our King…" he faded easily, wanting to leave things at that.

Grimmjow's fists tightened. _A gift from their King…? _

A short silence followed Ulquiorra's words, the eye and Aizen still locking gazes, before Gin finally spoke up: "When I looked into it, I saw many old memories… she can see them too, can't she? That's what you meant earlier, right? The gift she calls a curse?"

Ulquiorra met his gaze for only a second before nodding; "It sees many things beyond our comprehension: the past, present, future… the truth…"

At these words, all turned their eyes back to Triste's face, staring at her eye in awe as the iris glowed unnaturally…

* * *

**A/N: Granted my espanol is correct, "infectar" means "infect" and "privar" means "deprive." I do not have a translation for "illuminate" though, so if anyone does, please let me know!**


	6. King's Relics

**King's Relics**

Triste's eyes flew open instantly, her body shaking violently as she inhaled deeply. Every limb and joint convulsed in pain, her soul trembling under the immense pressure brought on by the haunting images in her head, the horrific sights and sounds that overwhelmed her senses, eventually causing her body to completely lose control and fling itself over the edge of her bed, landing heavily on the floor where her senses were finally jogged, bringing back her sanity.

She panted desperately for several seconds as she regained her composure, realizing where she was and what had happened, coming to terms with those terrible visions, realizing where they had come from…

Having finally calmed, Triste slowly began to glance around, finding herself back in her bedroom, safe in solitude, bathed in the light of the moon.

_My room… They must have brought me here after I passed out… _she thought to herself as she slowly pushed herself to a stand, still glancing around nervously, as if expecting someone or something to jump out at her at any minute.

Her fingers carefully caressed her demonic eye, feeling it burning ever so faintly, her head throbbing just behind it. Her other eye, she noticed, seemed itchier than usual as well, but could not feel anything. Irritated by both, she moved towards the far wall in order to gaze into the mirror, forgetting once again what horrors await when she sees her own reflection:

_Forgive us, but it is for the good of the town!_

_My! What a tasty looking morsel you have there!_

_Enough! I shall deal with this… You – where do you come from? What is your name?_

"_What's happening? Can't you see me?"_

_Of course not, I merely find it hard for such a spirited Vasto _

_Lorde as yourself to be deemed 'sad.'_

_Come, I have decided to bestow my gifts upon you all. _

_Are… are you a devil?_

"_Back off! I won't let you have him!"_

_Why are you still here? Don't you have some hole you can crawl into and die already?_

_Stop this! You're scaring us!_

_There! That's better! No harm done, I hope?_

Triste jerked herself away from the mirror, inhaling deeply as Las Noches returned, leaving the images fluttering faintly through her mind. Her hand grasped at her chest, grabbing the cloth tightly that lingered over the exposed hole in her chest.

It was throbbing with pain, her flesh burning as if it were happening all over again… her death… her encroachment… both occurred in the same spot.

_I… I remember now… When I died… _she thought bitterly, recalling the memories of her previous life so easily as if they happened just the other day. _My parents… why did they do it? … The good of the town…? _Slowly, her eyes began to widen even more.

She could see them again, the alter and the surrounding priests, the great statue that overlooked them, staring down at her with an omnipotent gaze, never ending as the priest performed the ritual, as the blade glinted in the firelight…

"Ahh!" she cried out in anguish, dropping to her knees as a searing pain shot through her body, centered around the gaping hole in her chest. _They… they let them do it… My parents gave me up to be sacrificed!! All because I was different!!_

Her fists clenched tightly as more memories flooded back, scenes from her childhood, playing in the mud and sand while her parents tilled the land nearby… she had no real friends… only the translucent figures that traversed the nearby river, apparitions that none of the others could see, not even the local temple priests. All assumed she was possessed, or some prodigy child that was not meant for their world, and should join the gods to assist them… the gods… that statue…

Her eyes flared once again, long lost knowledge returning to her instantly.

She quickly turned to look at her waist, but stopped in further astonishment.

_Horus!! Where's Horus?!_

Her eyes dashed around the room, seeking out her blade desperately, her body running to the couch to throw the blankets to the floor, tossing the pillows across the room without a second thought, ripping out the cushions madly. She darted to the table, going so far as to flip it over along with every other piece of furniture, tearing her room apart in the desperate struggle to locate her zanpakutou. _Horus!! Answer me!! HORUS!! _

Her body dropped with exhaustion, her mind reeling with so many questions, haunting memories that needed confirmation… but her sword was gone, and his voice was not answering her calls.

After managing to calm herself, she brought herself back to a stand, still a little shaky but better by all means. Her eyes glanced around the room, seeing the mess she had made scattered all around. One would wonder what on earth happened here if they were to come in on this… Ten minutes. That seemed like a good approximation for at least _someone _to finally come and bother her again. Whether it was her eye that made the guess or her own thoughts, had yet to be figured out.

Her hand slowly raised in order to rub at her left eye, feeling a bit of the burning itch return. But her skin… what was wrong with it?

Triste glanced wearily at the mirror, debating for a few seconds before finally making her way through the debris. As she approached, she decided to simply block the right's view without having to try and clear her thoughts enough that it wouldn't affect her.

When she gazed into the mirror, however, she was stunned by what she found.

A strange design seemed to be scarred around her eye, like her flesh had been burned or even branded with this peculiar shape. Could Aizen and his minions have done this? She had not seen any others with it, though it did bear a sort of familiarity…

Her gaze narrowed slightly.

With the utmost care, she removed her hand and allowed her right eye to stare into the mirror. Working carefully, she was able to notice a definite similarity between this new scar and the King's demonic eye, but there was still something else… Had she seen it in the past?

Her head turned sharply to the door, hearing a voice call through before it opened up, revealing none other than Ulquiorra.

Well, it had only been about five minutes, but she wasn't too far off.

Her eyes narrowed like always, meeting his calm gaze darkly. But the Espada took no notice, finding her destroyed room much more interesting, but he did not comment.

"I see you're finally up. You've been out for nearly twenty-four hours."

Triste made no reply, but was shocked at herself just the same. _I've been out that long?_

As she stared, she noticed Ulquiorra's eyes narrow a bit as he stared at her left eye, finding the new marking just as strange. "How is your eye?"

She knew he was not referring to her left. The fact that her right one was out in plain view and not absorbing his memories was what surprised her more than anything. Then again, Ulquiorra knew more about it than any other, thus knowing better than to look straight at it… that, or perhaps the eye did not want his memories.

"As you could probably tell, it still haunts me." Her gaze shifted to the floor, her expression turning solemn. "Whenever it is activated and shows me so many horrible things… it makes me realize why He wanted to die… why he accepted death…"

"… You always did. That's why he took you in."

She met his gaze evenly before looking away again. "Perhaps… but you were always his favorite. After all, that's why he gave you the greatest gift he could offer: his intelligence, his sixth sense…"

Ulquiorra just stared. "Do the five physical sense not suit you?"

She noticed that he did not deny her statement, though she doubted he was really so arrogant. "How many times must I tell you? I am _cursed _by this eye! I can only imagine how the others faired with their gifts…" she faded, a nostalgic look overcoming her as she met Ulquiorra's eyes shakily. "Do you know…?"

"No," he replied softly. "I heard about one a while back, but for the most part they've all disappeared – just as you did."

Triste nodded subtly, "Yes… but not you. You remained in the open and eventually went from one lord to the next, proving yourself a loyal minion," she replied with an edge to her voice, obviously referring to Aizen. "Why? Could that man stand up to _all _the Vasto Lordes? If you lead them…"

"I do not have the ambition to lead, I'm afraid," he interjected quickly, his eyes narrowing every so slightly. "There is nothing for me to gain by revolting against Aizen-sama.

"Triste, you should know better than anyone that I have no desire to rule this land of sand. I have no goals, no grudges, no desires. That is why I turned down the position of 'King' when it was offered."

Triste was silent, thinking back on the day that the King had died…

* * *

He had already decided who would get which of his senses, already having passed them all out except for Triste's and Ulquiorra's. Because there were six of them – Triste being the most disliked – everyone had assumed that Ulquiorra would get the eye, while Triste would be left with nothing, a thought that had not perturbed her much, though she recognized the envy she felt for the others who were donned with a gift – anything, anything at all would have suited her, it didn't have to be one of his five senses, just… something to show that she was not as worthless as the others made her feel.

Before announcing what Ulquiorra was to receive, however, he asked the silent Hollow to take his place.

The others had been shocked by this news, but Triste already knew about it – he had told her in private just the day before. She had begged him to reconsider, but knew that of the five, he was indeed the most fit to rule.

But Ulquiorra turned it down, refusing to take his place as a king of Hueco Mundo, giving very little reason for his decision, but adamant about it just the same (well, as adamant as he could be). With that said, the King respected his decision and passed on his sixth sense and intelligence to the emotionless Vasto Lorde, surprising all.

"But what about the eye?" the only other female of the group questioned, who had already received his Gift of Hearing. "Do you mean to let it die with you?"

"Of course not! You all seem to forget that there is still one more amongst you!"

The other four turned to Triste with shock and hatred in their eyes, apparently oblivious to her own look of shock. "What?!"

"Triste, it is to you that I give my Gift of Sight… This eye that is older than I will be passed on to you, so that you may see all there is to know." He turned to Ulquiorra, a grave tone to his voice: "Ulquiorra: my eye cannot be removed so long as I still breath. Upon my death, pry it from my socket and make sure Triste receives it. Understand?"

The Hollow, who'd been more quite than usual, nodded slowly.

Idle banter was all that managed the passing of time between them. The Hollows who had received Taste and Smell had already departed, being the first ones to realize that there was no longer any reason to be there or even to stick together anymore.

Triste, who refused to leave his side, even when threatened, could only wonder about her future… what would she do without him? Where would she go? The others would not accept her… And what of the eye?

"Why…? Why must you leave us? Surely this life wasn't all _that _bad…?" she asked, though she knew deep in her heart that it was. And the king knew this.

"Do not fool yourself, Triste… you above all should know…"

Triste accepted his words grudgingly. "But why…? Why the eye? Surely…"

"… Triste…" he muttered weakly with a faint smile of amusement. And in an even lower voice he added "… my beloved Triste… I give this gift to you, so that you may look to the future and stop dwelling on the past… let it be your guide… let it bring the light to your eyes…"

When it finally came down to his last moments, the remaining four kept close, watching their once proud King withering away to nothing. Right before he passed away, however, his eye began to glow a radiant blue… and he whispered ominously with his last breaths… "B… war… str…rie…s…"

They exchanged gazes uneasily as he spoke, confused by what on earth he meant. Had he seen something?

Before any could question it, however, Ulquiorra was already moving forward.

Triste's eyes widened, "What are you doing?"

"I'm fulfilling his last request."

"No! Leave it!" she cried out hastily. "I don't want it!"

'Hearing' and 'Touch' did not move to stop him, but were not pleased either. Though neither found Triste worthy of such a gift, they found it easier to be loyal to the King – especially when it was Ulquiorra who was enforcing this.

But Ulquiorra would not listen to her and grabbed at the demonic eye – the eye that did not die with its owner, wandering around just as freely as ever – with his powerful claws. His claws scratched through the mask, breaking it rather easily as he buried his claws into the King's skull before taking a firm hold of the demonic eye.

Triste trembled where she stood, watching in terrified awe at how easily he desecrated their king. As he stood before her, he held up the eye, revealing the live, squirming roots that kept the eye attached to its victim. "No… No!!"

* * *

Triste shuddered at the memories, her eye hurting just from thinking about the pain that coursed through her when the roots took hold of her original eye, fastening itself onto her mask. It had taken all three of them to hold her down as the eye took effect, filling her head with thousands upon thousands of memories and thoughts, visions and voices… And in her agony, she had nearly drained them of all their energy, leaving them beyond weak and exhausted, teetering on the brink of death.

It was the only time she had used her powers against them, and each of them became gravely aware of just how dangerous she could be if she only put her mind to it.

"Like you," he continued, "I traveled aimlessly for years. Aizen-sama has given me a purpose again."

Triste stared back coldly: "So you're just going to join his war for the sake of a purpose? If you have no grudges, why will you fight the Shinigami? With _ex_-Shinigami no less?! Those three betrayed their comrades for this war – to what end? Aizen will destroy everything we know if left to do as he pleases! He doesn't care about any of you! You're all pawns in his game! Leave now while you still have your pride in tact!!"

"Triste!!"

A cold silence befell the room, Ulquiorra raising his voice to an unusual level despite the still indifferent look he gave her. No, this was not his usual look… he was actually giving her a serious look.

"I knew you would not join them, that is why I tried to dissuade Aizen-sama over you," he explained briefly as his body began to turn, ready to leave her alone once again, to end this conversation, but not without adding one last word of advice: "You should leave soon."

But Triste wasn't done yet: "Ulquiorra! Don't you get it?! If there was anything I learned from our King it was that it can't be done! You were there for his last moments – you saw what had become of him! You know what I'm talking about!!"

Ulquiorra gazed back calmly, listening to her every word… "I'll say it once more: Leave Triste… before it is too late for you…" he muttered gently as he turned his back on her and exit the room without another word.

Triste stared after him for several seconds, feeling defeated in her failed attempt to get him to leave. Ulquiorra was, much to her dismay, the closest thing to a friend she had. A sad fact, but he and the others from the King's reign were the only family she had known since coming to Hueco Mundo, whether they accepted her or not, and she had hoped she might be able to help him just as he had been around for her since entering Las Noches. Could she do nothing for him? Why did he refuse to listen…?

Her eyes narrowed as she suddenly turned to stare at the far corner, both eyes glowing with a blazing hatred…

* * *

Aizen smiled to himself before turning off his spy camera, an invisible mechanism he had placed in Triste's room to keep a close eye on her.

He was not at all displeased with the conversation she and Ulquiorra shared, nor was he upset that she had discovered his spying presence – he was quite happy with it, in fact. She really was a fascinating specimen, the rarest of breeds among Hollows…

"Gin," he voice called out gently, waiting until his friend had come closer before continuing: "I want you to go and check on our dear Triste…"

Gin cocked his head slightly, only a faint smile visible. "Are you sure she's still willing to talk to me? She's knows our past after all…"

Aizen's eye flicked back to gaze upon his grinning companion, "Of course she will." And suddenly he remembered that Triste had gotten a good look at his mind, perhaps more than she had seen of his own past. "How much did she see?"

At his query, Gin's smile returned just as he turned to leave, "Nothing important."

Aizen continued to watch as Gin left the room at an easy pace, wondering just how much of that was true. Ichimaru had been shaken up by her powers – they had confused him as well, when the eye fell upon him after being knocked unconscious – and it was hard to believe that she had not found anything truly valuable. Not even Aizen could deny that long lost memories had been drudged up by the eye's power, some that, at least at the time, he had regretted or found to be a pleasant memory. This was no longer the case, but it still felt odd to see those things once again after so long…

"Aizen-sama," Tousen called from the other side of the room, gaining his attention, his eyes focused on the swelled up eye beneath his cleaned glasses. "If I may ask, what do you plan on doing with her now? She will only be a hindrance if she stays, but she…"

"But she is a valuable asset just the same," Aizen spoke up, finishing Tousen's statement easily before bringing himself to a stand. "I'm fully aware of the implications, Kaname. What will be, will be…" he faded easily as he walked towards the exit, deciding to return to his usual post, Tousen turning to follow as he walked past.

"What of her zanpakutou? Have you located it yet?"

"There have been no signs of it since she reverted back to her normal state."

Aizen's eyes narrowed slightly, _Very strange…_

"And what of your eyes? You haven't explained that phenomenon yet…" he called, glancing over his shoulder.

Kaname was obviously hesitant to speak about it, some anger still lingering at the very thought of it. "It was that ancient eye of hers… After everything I've heard so far, I believe it only works when it looks into another's eye, using that moment to steal the person's memories as it did to Ichimaru."

"But because you are blind, it cannot connect properly…" Aizen mumbled, yet again finishing the thought. _The eye has a power all its own, an entity separate from Triste… it must have been furious that it failed to meet Kaname's eyes, and thus attacked them… _he considered, wondering what kind of attack it used to cause Tousen's eyes to swell. And what of the scorch mark from his glasses? Did that mean the attack was physical?

If it was, Aizen was incapable of seeing it.

And what of Horus, her zanpakutou, which she had grown so attached to in such a short amount of time? – Another anomaly in itself. As Tousen mentioned, the sword was nowhere to be found upon her revert – where could it have gone?


	7. Life, Death, Insanity

**Life, Death, Insanity**

After being left alone once again, the mechanism in the corner destroyed, Triste was yet again found standing in front of her mirror. She played with her new mark idly as old memories overwhelmed her, surprised that her demonic eye did not attack her while she wasn't focused…

She was yet again lost in the past, but not centered around their king like usual. No, she was farther back now, back when she was a hopeless spirit wandering the sands of the mortal world…

That's where she was from: a land of bountiful golden sand, stretching far in the distance, rising and falling like the ocean. Her family worked a plot of land near the large river, a place often infested with large lizards that bore long snouts full of sharp teeth, usually found killing a human that had not noticed his lithe body beneath the surface. But despite the terrible beasts, it was the source of life for them, and always bore many trading boats traveling up and down the river, sometimes even royalty would come through – she remembered waving to them with some of the other children, all giggling when one would be so kind as to wave back.

But things were not always so easy.

Still too young to effectively help with the crops, Triste was left alone to her own devices, to play freely while she still had the chance. It was during these times when she would speak and play with others who had all the freedom in the world, people that were beyond day-to-day work, who bore a chain dangling from the body, most often over their heart.

Most of them never stayed long, many of them never stopping at all, just following the river wherever it may lead. But most importantly, she had never been caught interacting with them. At least, not until one day when a neighbor, too sick to work, happened to overhear from the window. They were stunned to find her having a full conversation with an invisible entity and, like any paranoid person would, explained their findings to the parents and spread the rumors like a wildfire.

Her parents tried to help her, to tell her she wasn't seeing things like she claimed, but Triste had been raised not to lie, and could not see the harm in this unusual gift of hers. And so, unhindered by her parents, she found no reason to lie when the local priests came to investigate. Needless to say, they too were worried.

It was later decided that Triste would be sacrificed to the gods.

"She is a gift of the gods, unfit to live on our plane – we must send her back where she belongs!"

"The weather has been most unfavorable lately – perhaps it is our punishment for having such a gift in our midst?"

Phrases like these were used to persuade the people to turn against Triste.

Her parents tried to protect her at first, but even they had their limits: "Forgive us, but it is for the good of the town!"

And so, she was taken by the priests to one of the nearby temples, laid on the alter in a pure white gown, placed beneath the eyes of one of their most powerful gods as the ritual was performed, and the head priest stabbed her through the heart.

The transition from life to death was a fuzzy memory, almost nonexistent. The next clear thing she can remember is traveling the sands in the same white gown, a chain dangling from her heart like her invisible friends used to have. She had no idea where she was or how she came to be there, only that she was alone without even other ghosts to keep her company – but at the time, she still had not come to terms with her death.

It wasn't until a group of marauders passed by, setting up camp near an oasis that she had stumbled upon in the desert… but they could not see her, could not hear her. One went so far as to walk right through her.

It was then that things started to become clear, that she realized she had passed into the afterlife, as all the others did, and was now left alone in the desert.

Afraid of her situation, knowing that others could not see her, she steered clear of towns and settlements, afraid of being reminded that she was alone despite the chances she had at finding other ghosts to keep her company. And there were indeed times when she would pass by at a distance and feel an overwhelming power emanate from the settlements – some were good and made her feel warm all over, while others seemed darker and more malignant. There were even times when she could see them, the black clothed Shinigamis and the masked Hollows, always seen fighting and taking innocent souls.

For a long time, she stayed clear of them both, afraid of what they could or might do to her; but after a time she found herself wanting to be taken by them. It didn't matter who or how, as long as she could be freed from the torment of endless days and nights with no sign of salvation.

She walked through the towns and villages, she splashed in the puddles and created all kinds of raucous noises, doing anything she could to be noticed by the soul takers… but all she ever accomplished was scaring the locals. No one ever came for her, no matter how often she pleaded for eternal death, how much she wanted everything to simply end…

And finally, about the time she had managed to escape the desert and enter a whole new world of green grass and lush plains, she lost her mind, and her chain encroached completely.

The first village she stumbled upon in her massive hunger was filled with humans darker than she had ever seen, many painted ceremoniously. And there were some, she noticed, that looked straight into her eyes when she approached. One-by-one they were slaughtered, unable to defend themselves against such a vicious beast, unable to stop a creature they had not the power to touch. Her hunger eased, but the desire for more of that delicious energy grew tremendously.

On and on she went, passing from village to village, consuming the powerful shamans of each tribe until her own powers began to take root and develop into the leeching aura that it is today.

For what seemed like an eternity, Triste continued to roam the lands, traveling through thick jungles, vast plains, dead plains, mountains, caves; anywhere that humans had settled, whether they bore a man of power or not, became her target.

She used her powers to suck the energy right out of the workers that tilled the fields or hunted, or even the women who cooked and cleaned and bore children… all were at her mercy.

Though she was clinically insane for a majority of it all, there were some things that still rang clear in her memory, like the first Hollow she ever encountered.

He was a cocky fellow, not much bigger than her and with an uglier mask; surprisingly, he did not try to fight her for the local victims. Instead, he gave them away and warned her of the Shinigamis that had been spotted in the area lately.

Ignorant of the word, the Hollow had to explain to her about the black-clothed humans who bore swords and carried the scent of death with them. A faint hint of recognition flared in her mind, remembering such beings back in her homeland, but she had not seen them since before transforming into a Hollow.

When some did come her way, she was far too powerful to be taken down by two measly foot soldiers, but had the sense not to engage in battle with them, thus using her powers to hide and remain undetected. She knew that the less they were aware of her, the better off she'd be, the more freedom she would have.

After that, other Hollows almost became regular to see, usually in the distance, and it seemed that all of them noticed her almost immediately. And when they did, they backed away, as if cowering in her presence, allowing her to take the victims no matter how starved they seemed… At the time, she never understood; now it seemed quite obvious that they feared her power, probably that of a Gillian by that point, and thus feared being devoured themselves.

This sort of thing continued for many more seasons: drain the humans, evade the Shinigami, have limited contact with the other Hollows… it was a simple life.

But after awhile, out of nowhere, it all came crashing down on her in instant, her deteriorated mind and soul suddenly returning to the light, to find sanity in the world and one's actions, to feel the emotions of a mortal once again… to realize what she had been doing for so long.

In a wave of anguish and guilt, Triste wandered the lands far and wide, lost in her own self-pity, in a new kind of madness that left her more desolate than before.

Her body learned to take from others only what it needed to sustain itself, often without Triste even realizing it was happening. Amidst her grieving, she found her feet had led her back to the beginning, back to the ocean of sand.

And somewhere, somehow, by pure coincidence, she stumbled upon the same oasis where she had first realized her demise… and found a young boy, whose chain hung limply from his stomach.

The boy stared at her in wonder and awe, never before seeing such a creature in his short life. "What are you…?" he marveled, still looking over her when his eyes suddenly showed fear, his body trembling; "Are you… going to kill me…?"

Frankly, she nearly smiled at the question. He still didn't know his fate… and just like her, he would learn in this very spot. "No, little one… I'm afraid I cannot kill you, for you are already dead."

The next few minutes were spent listening to the boy's sobs and incoherent mumblings before taking the time to explain to him the situation. And then, much to her surprise, he asked her a question that made her soul lurch: "Well… if I'm already dead, then are you here to take me to heaven?"

Though heaven was not a term her people used to describe the afterlife, she knew he meant the same place, a place where the dead go to rest and finally be at peace, away from this retched plane of existence.

His bright and hopeful eyes burned into her severely, breaking her heart as she shook her head solemnly: "No, child, I'm afraid I can do no such thing."

His head dropped slowly, his sorrow returning, "Oh… but… I'm so lonely here… I can't find my mommy or daddy… Do you know where they are?" he looked up again, another glint of hope shining there.

But once again, Triste was left to tell him the bitter truth: "Sorry, but I do not know…" she wanted to say more, to try and get through to him that this was it – this was the end of the line, but he just couldn't seem to grasp the idea. Before she could go on, however, he raised his finger and pointed into the distance:

"Well… what about them? Would they know?"

Her head swiveled around, feeling approaching spirits as soon as he spoke. In one sense, she feared that Shinigami had finally caught up with her, in another, she feared they would be Hollow coming to take this boy's spirit…

It was the latter.

Two green Hollows came trotting up at a rather brisk pace, fully aware of Triste's presence, as well as the young boy's. Triste felt a strange sensation prickling up inside of her, one she had not truly felt in years: fear.

All other Hollows had avoided her, why did these two have to come now? Now, when there was a potential snack at her feet that she would not want to suffer.

She sensed their powers as they approached, feeling strong auras emanating from both. They were stronger than any other Hollow she encountered, perhaps being the reason they did not fear to approach.

They walked up gently beside her, casting sideways glances at the boy, who began to quiver under their presence.

"Well, well! You're a new face in these parts!" one greeted Triste almost friendly-like.

Triste shook her head easily, "Actually, no. I have merely been away for quite some time."

"Well, wherever you've been, you must have done well for yourself. There aren't many of us around," the second one replied.

"What do you mean? I have seen plenty of others," she asked, hoping she might be able to distract them from the boy, or at least establish some ground with these two and protect the boy from such a fate.

The second gave a faint sort of chuckle as he glanced to his companion and back again, a humorous glint in his glowing eyes: "You're kidding, right? All that's around here are regular small fry! Those who are content with still feeding off the humans are hardly noteworthy! Only those of us who have progressed as Menos have any real purpose to live!"

Though she knew it would mean trouble, she could not pass up this opportunity: "Explain yourselves! What other food is there besides the humans? And what's a… Menos?"

The humor vanished from their eyes as they met each other's gazes once again, a rather shocked look overwhelming them now.

"You mean you're _not _an Adjucha?!"

"Adjucha?"

"She's not an Adjucha!" the second one exclaimed out loud, completely astonished: "But her aura… there's no way you're this strong simply by consuming the humans!"

But Triste's silent stare only confirmed it.

"Wh… what's going on…?" a small voice piped, instantly causing Triste to flinch as the small boy made himself known, the two strangers gazing down at him with less than casual glances.

Triste's head whipped back around to him, anger flaring in her eyes: "Be quiet!" she urged him fiercely, causing him to quiver in fear, but if it kept him quiet…

When she turned back to the others, her heart sank as the two seemed to have taken a step or two back, now leaning in close to one another, eyeing her sternly as they whispered menacingly. Her skin crawled to think of what they were talking about, a new wickedness in their eyes that she had only seen in starving Hollows, now focused on her…

When their whispers came to an end, they separated slightly in order to walk forward again, this time slowly with a slight hunch, as if storing energy in their muscles until that perfect moment when they would attack. Triste also crouched in response, her fur bristling as she prepared herself for a fight.

"My, what a tasting looking morsel you have there… Do you intend on eating him?"

Her anger began to grow: "Of course not! He is just a child! And with hardly any spiritual powers to offer!" she growled, exposing her weakness towards the innocent child, as well as the weakness to her Hollow hunger.

"Hmph… than it seems we shall have to do it for you!"

In an instant, both lunged towards the boy, Triste tackling them from the side. "Back off! I won't let you have him!" she growled menacingly, her tail lashing behind her, before turning back to the boy, whose whimpers rang in her ears: "Get out of here!" she tried yelling, but the boy could only cower in place. "I said GO!"

But before he could even bring himself to a stand, one of the Hollows jumped at her, trapping her down with his greater weight while the second went after the boy.

"NO!!"

One last cry echoed across the sands as the boy, pinned down by one claw, was suddenly devoured by the Hollow, consumed in big bite. As if sensing the boy's path into the beast's stomach, she could feel his tiny aura fading more and more until there was nothing left but the Hollow's wicked chuckle and a nauseating burp.

"Why?!" she screamed yet again, squirming beneath the other's claws. "He was just a boy!!"

"That's how we all started out!" her oppressor cried back. "But life goes on and the laws of evolution rule: the strong survive and the weak die! But don't worry, you'll soon be joining that boy after we get through devouring _you_!"

Their eyes met for just one second, and Triste suddenly understood. This was what they meant by not eating humans… they were eating other Hollows instead.

But before his teeth could catch, Triste exploded in a fit of rage and threw him off with ease, jumping to her feet and tackling the other swiftly, both too surprised to react.

Without hesitation, though no logical reason for it, Triste clamped her jaws around his neck and tore at his flesh, letting his neon colored blood stain the sand while his screams of anguish filled the skies.

As he writhed in pain, Triste turned and met the other head on in an all out brawl, their claws scratching at each other, but while hers could easily score through his spongy flesh, his could not pierce her scaly hide, sliding off as if they were metal. And in a moment of helplessness, Triste lunged for his muzzle and bit down fiercely on his mask.

Though a Hollow's mask is relatively strong, especially that of an Adjucha, the Hollow was frantic of the pressure her jaws were putting on it, her few sharp fangs putting immense strain on small spots, feeling it weaken. And suddenly she shifted her hold, her larger bottom teeth finding a spot of flesh beneath his jaw, wasting no time in breaking that skin, feeling his blood drain heavily before releasing him.

Like his companion, he dropped to the sand in a writhing mass of pain, releasing their Hollow bellows almost endlessly.

"She has broken our flesh!" the other one cried out when he had the breath and sanity, calling out to his friend in dismay. "Now we will never become Vasto Lordes!"

Another term she did not know.

"After what I've seen, neither of you are worthy of the title 'lord'! You couldn't even let one small boy go?!"

"He was bound to die anyway!" he replied defensively. "If I had not devoured him, someone else would have! Even if he did manage to live, then what? Would it really be so merciless of you to let him become one of us?! Feeding off of the humans in order to survive! If only this life was so glamorous!"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at his mocking tone, though deep down inside, she knew he was right. The chances of him being found by the dead humans in black was slim – she had experienced those odds herself.

Finally she straightened up, gazing down at the two bleeding Hollows at her feet with an air of superiority. "Perhaps you are right… perhaps I would have seen that and decided to take his life myself, to end the misery that awaited him… but it would have been _my _decision, one out of _pity _and not the _cruelty_ that seems to dominate our kind!

"You stole the last remains of his life, and now I shall take yours!"

Her body was soon glowing pink as her leeching aura began to develop, streams reaching out and sucking away at the two broken bodies, sapping their energy at an extreme rate, leaving their flesh shriveled to the bone. The one could no longer even whine after only a short while.

And in his last moments, the one who had killed the boy, seemed to smile at Triste: "So… you've finally… felt the hunger… the taste… for other Hollows…"

And in the following instant, his body shriveled to its extreme, both souls fully consumed, leaving only the bodily remains… but her aura began taking that too, devouring their flesh until not a trace was left.

As the aura faded, her head began to spin, feeling the enormous power they had to offer being absorbed by every vein, muscle, and organ, sensing the countless lives they had consumed… so many humans… so many Hollow… and that boy.

Amidst all the intermingled energies swirling together, she could feel the tiny shred of life he had left flowing through her body.

She closed her eyes softly, bowing her head solemnly as all of her senses focused on that tiny soul… until finally he was there in her mind, a sad smile on his face.

"Hi again," he called peacefully, waving his hand callously.

"Hello there," she whispered back, trying as hard as she could to keep a lock on him, to keep from losing him amidst the rising torrent in her body. "I'm sorry about this… for everything that has happened to you."

"It's okay… Like he said, it would have happened eventually."

"You heard that, did you?"

"Yeah… all I could feel over there was pain, hatred, and hunger…"

"But I said the same thing… I admitted how I might have done it in the end."

"I know… but it doesn't hurt over here inside of you. There are so many others here that feel the same, I can tell… But don't worry, soon we'll all be a part of you and things will be okay again."

"How can you be so sure?" she winced, feeling his presence slip away under the immense pressure.

But when he smiled back at her, that horrible feeling in her soul faded: "I just know. You aren't like the others… and besides, someone is watching over you… they will always help you…"

"What? What are you talking about?!"

His broad smile did not falter, as pure and innocent as could be possible, even though his entirety was barely translucent anymore. "He can always see… powerful eyes… the sun… moon…"

"Wait! Don't go!!" she cried out, her body trembling from the force that desired so greatly to break free of her body, the boy's image finally fading from her mind, no longer able to distinguish him from the rest. All that was left was a sweet and innocent "Goodbye."

And with that, her eyes flew open as she reared her head back, a monstrous bellow escaping her tiny body as an enormous surge of power exploded from her chest, surrounding her in her own pink aura, feeling it pulse in and out of her flesh, her body convulsing to the immense power that flowed through her blood, overwhelming her mind, body, and soul…

Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, when the pressure became too much, the entire aura suddenly shot back inside of her, colliding directly with her soul.

A cold chill overwhelmed her, her eyes barely opening in time to see the air around her twist and bend, cracking open to reveal a black vortex, a place of darkness and white sand… and to her bewilderment, it felt comfortable.

Barely conscious of her surroundings or movements, she found herself walking towards the vortex, towards the place that made her soul ache with longing.

Her eyes wandered away one last time, taking in the vast ocean of golden sand, the beauty of the oasis, the blue sky and white clouds… the bright sun… And then they shifted to this new world, finding a large crescent moon in the sun's place, surrounded by the black night sky, and occasional gray cloud. Any trees in range were gangly and bare, and there was no water, only sand.

A cool wind crept up on her, a sensation strange to her thick hide after countless years of hot, sultry air… and what last warmth she could feel behind her was fading fast as the vortex began to close, leaving her isolated in this new, foreign land without a clue in the world.

It was then when, after everything she'd just experienced, she finally collapsed unconsciously into the sand.

Triste thought that when she woke up, she might have found it was all just a dream, that she was still back in the land of burning sand… but opened her eyes to find this was reality. She could feel other Hollows not far, and nothing but Hollow auras… and soon realized why she felt like she belonged here. This was the world of Hollows, the place where they gathered, where they lived when they weren't terrorizing the humans… this was home.

But with that sentiment, she could not help but remember the burning sands, the only thing she could recall of her distant past. _No… that was the past. I am no longer welcome there, nor do I desire to ever return… not after all I've done… I must never again return to the mortal world. If I am to live with myself, I must learn to survive in this new world… my new home…_

It would not be weeks before she first encountered the King or the others, when she was attacked without warning. But though they had the advantage of surprising her, she gave them quite a shock when she began absorbing their powers, leaving them momentarily suspended with weakness, despite the small amount she took.

But one, powerful word brought it all to an end: "Enough!"

One of the most magnificent Hollows she'd ever seen appeared before her, his dominating presence overwhelming her in everyway. Who was this beautiful creature?

But before she could marvel for too long, she saw the devil's eye upon his mask, watching the crosshair aim straight at her, glowing blue just before her body became wracked with immense pain, her mind on the brink of destruction amidst all the horrors that filled her mind, the images, voices, the memories…

He did not keep his hold long, however, waiting until his subordinates were obedient before releasing her, waiting until the anguish and shock subsided.

Her small body quivered restlessly, unable to grasp what had just happened.

"Hmph, tough little Hollow, isn't she?" one of the minions commented, one that had not partaken in the assault.

"What is she though? She feels like us, but…"

"She is a Vasto Lorde," one voice called out firmly, a beast that stared her down with icy green eyes, causing her heart to frost under his cold gaze. "She looks and even feels a bit different, but there is no doubt about her strength."

"Ulquiorra's right," the one commented, the one with the wicked eye. "It seems as though she is fresh to our ranks," he remarked. "Hmph. She hasn't even been in Hueco Mundo all that long."

Her interest was perked at this comment. How could he possibly have known that?

"Hmph! What a worthless little scrap!" the only female called out tartly. "Why don't we just eat her and get it over with!?"

"I said, enough! I shall deal with this" he called out powerfully, stopping his minions in their tracks as he met Triste's gaze once again, no more images flaring much to her joy. "You – where do you come from? What is your name?"

Regaining some of her composure, she brought herself to a firm stand, staring into his one good eye. Her jaws parted to answer, but hesitated; 'name'? The term was almost foreign to her… She had been living alone for so long, and she could no longer remember her mortal life let alone her name… did she have one?

"Answer," one of the subs ordered, one who had tried attacking her.

Though she gave him a defiant glare, she could only look back at their King with a forlorn expression: "I'm afraid I do not have one… at least, I cannot remember ever being given a title…"

"Hmph… it is unheard of for a Hollow to forget its true name, though I suppose not impossible. Very well then, _I_ shall name you…"

"What?! You can't be serious!" multiple objections arose at the mere thought, leaving Triste speechless that they'd be so adamant about something as simple as a title. What was wrong with giving her a name? "She's just trash! Either send her away or let us devour her soul!"

"Watch your tongue!" he snapped, causing all to flinch but the one with green eyes, the only one who had not objected, but stared at her just as displeased as the rest – if not more. "She is a Vasto Lorde like us! Though she may be of a lower level, she has the same rights as any of us! And that includes bearing a name!

"Now, Hollow! Come stand before me!"

Triste was once again shocked by how forth willing he was in front of these other powerful Hollow. She had no idea who he was, but considering his domineering position over the others, he was obviously in charge… their 'king.'

After a moment's hesitation, she stepped forward proudly, holding her head high as she came to stand elegantly before him.

The King spent a few moments looking over her, sorting through the memories the eye had stolen for him, learning about her past… "From this day forward, you shall be known as 'Triste.'"

"Triste…" she repeated softly under her breath, acknowledging it, getting a feel for it… and though the word was very foreign to her, deep in her heart, she knew its meaning: sorrow.

"Now you are an official Vasto Lorde…" he commented softly before turning his back on her and the others, heading off towards the distance. One-by-one, his subordinates also turned to follow, the last few angry to have let her go so easily, one even going so far as to comment that it was harder to eat something when it had a name.

Feeling this little encounter was over, Triste also turned to leave, heading in a perpendicular direction, wondering to herself if she would ever see any of them again, see that King of theirs… he was such a magnificent creature, even with that eye of his.

She had only gone a few yards when her new name had been called out: "Triste!"

Her head turned to find the King watching her unusually, "Where are you going?" he asked, as if shocked she would even think of heading that way. She glanced between the direction and him, wondering what on earth he meant when he suddenly made himself clear: "Get in line."

Her shock was obvious – was he really inviting her into his ranks? But… the others all hated her, their glares were only too obvious. Her mouth parted to protest, but before anything could come out, there was a dangerous glint in that wicked eye, and fear pierced her heart.

With one glance between the separate path, the minions, and the King, she finally submitted and walked back to join them, her head hung slightly in apprehension of the others, but the King seemed to ignore them as he began leading the way once again.

As the others followed suit, the one with the cold green eyes seemed to take an extra moment to stare, leaving her more uncomfortable than ever, but a tiny hint of attitude remained in tact as she walked past him with an indifferent air: as long as the King wanted her there, they would not touch her… but for how long would this last?


	8. Unwanted Gifts

**Unwanted Gifts**

A knocking roused Triste from her memories, bringing her back to her bedroom in Las Noches, to the mess she had made earlier in search of Horus, her precious zanpakutou, back to the realization that she was still trapped within the ex-Shinigami's world so long as she stayed within these walls.

Who was at her door was a mystery – Ulquiorra had already come and gone, surely he would not have returned so soon? By that time, the door opened to reveal a figure she had all but forgotten, one whose silly grin had captivated her since day one, the only reason she had even come to Las Noches (without a fight, at least).

But instead of being drawn in to his silly smile, her anger returned: "Gin… Go away! I don't wish to speak with you right now."

"Oh? But Ulquiorra was allowed?"

"Hardly; you and Aizen saw that little skirmish, so there's no reason to believe I would welcome him back."

"Even though the two of you are old friends?" he questioned, not even bothering to lie and deny it.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call him a friend," she muttered darkly, recalling from the days of the King when he would call her pathetic and trash talk her like the others, making sure she felt inferior. At that particular moment, one line even popped back up in her mind, something that showed just how 'close' they used to be: _"Why are you still here? Don't have some hole you can crawl into and die already?"_

"Does that mean _we're_ not friends?" Gin questioned gently, his smile a little fainter than usual, almost making her want to believe it was genuine, but he was shrouded in so many dark memories that she could not be sure.

Meeting his gaze now, considering everything, all she could do was sigh: "If it were really possible, I think we could have been, but it seems I still can't trust anybody…" _Or that those I put my trust in are not really worth it._

"Why do you say that?" Gin tilted his head softly.

But Triste shook her head solemnly: "Please, Gin… don't give me any of that innocent bullshit. I saw it. I saw how the three of you came to our world. All the people you've hurt and lied to… you're more of a monster than me."

Finally, Gin became cruelly honest with her.

"That's big talk coming from someone who regrets their own past. We accept what we've done…" he practically shrugged it off.

"You've destroyed lives!"

"And you haven't?"

Triste flinched, hating herself for it, but unable to hide from the truth. Gin walked closer, giving his words even more impact as he went on…

"You're a Hollow – a Vasto Lorde – you're just as guilty as the rest of us. The only difference is how we choose to live our lives. You wallow in grief and regret, while we move on to a better future, one without the need for bloodshed, lies, and grief…" he practically whispered into her ears, causing her heart to cringe in more ways than one. "If you gave us the chance, we could show you that."

Triste listened in complete silence, hearing his words, wanting more than anything to believe them, to trust them, to trust Gin…

Her hand massaged her hidden eye delicately, sighing deeply: "That kind of world would be a godsend…" she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear. "However, you're forgetting one important factor: I _am_ a Hollow, as are the rest living here under Aizen's control. We are _born _from turmoil, and we feed on it. Hollow are not – can not – exist in such a peaceful world…"

A long moment of silence followed, Triste making her point pretty clear, Gin unable to think of any other way to convince her. And then, for the first time, she smiled at him in return, though feint and sad: "But thanks for the lie…"

Gin's own response was a sigh and soft shake of the head as he smiled back: "Well, I guess if that's how you feel, I can't change your mind. Aizen will be awfully disappointed to see you leave…"

Her smile faded slowly, "Aizen… May I see him once more? Before I leave? I've always talked to you and Ulquiorra, and even that Grimmjow, but now I want to talk to Aizen, to the man who has won over my kind and promises this 'better world.'"

Gin's hesitation was obvious as he met Triste's eyes, seeing a clear determination in them. She was obviously planning something, but what that could be was anyone's guess… and who knows? It might be interesting to see. So, despite any skepticism he may have felt, he was too carefree to deny her this last request. _Heh, who knows? Maybe if we had met under different circumstances, we really could have been friends._

With a broad grin, Gin agreed.

And in that instance, an image appeared in Triste's mind, one that overlaid with Gin's. _The boy… he has the same smile as that boy did right before I lost him…_

Her heart, though it was saddened to see the boy's face again, felt warm to see that smile… warm to realize what it was about Gin that had attracted her to that ridiculous grin of his. She liked this ex-Shinigami – to an extent, of course – but to realize what had made her so fond of him made life easier, and made liking him easier as well. Because of that moment of clarity, she forgave Gin for any wrongs he may have done her, especially now that he was no longer trying to manipulate her, but being honest.

And then something occurred to her, memories that were not hers began to filter through her mind, visions linked to Gin that made her heart swell.

Gin had hardly moved to exit the room, just turning his back on her when her words stopped him cold…

"Who is the woman I saw…?"

He did not move, did not even acknowledge he had heard her, but stopped just the same. She knew she had found something and she needed to know what, to know what sensation she was feeling when she watched his memories.

"Is… is she the girl in the road? The one with the…"

"Reddish hair?" he interrupted, catching her off guard. "The icy blue eyes and the unnaturally large breasts?" His head suddenly turned, very slowly, to face her, his eyes open just a crack, but not enough for her to distinguish any color. "Yes, she's the same one."

Just looking at Gin now made her feel worse than before, sensing a sadness in him that she didn't think possible. "… Who is she?"

"Can't you tell from my memories?" he questioned, a slight mocking tone to his voice.

Triste hesitated, shying from his gaze, which both knew that if he were being his usual self, he would have teased her for it. When she tried to watch Gin's past, she could see everything so clearly – her eye was very detailed when it came to these things – but never before had thoughts, _emotions_, accompanied her visions. And when she tried to watch his memories – particularly the ones that involved the woman – she could _feel _what he had felt at the time, and many of these sensations were foreign to her. Some hurt.

For Gin, to hear about his old friend hurt him more than anything. It had hurt to leave and say goodbye to her as he'd done, and upon entering Las Noches, his greatest challenge was to put his thoughts and feelings for her aside.

He had worked for many, many days to solidify his resolve on the matter, eventually reaching the point where Rangiku was no longer thought of, and nothing, no matter how similar, could remind him of her.

But the moment Triste's demon eye peered into his, piercing and picking at his brain like a toy, absorbing memories old and new, his resolve shattered. Everything she took, he watched flash before his eyes, including some of his best and worst memories with Rangiku. Trying to push them aside again was much harder than before, especially when Aizen would continuously plot against Soul Society, and when Triste made him discuss things that he had never shared with anyone.

"She's very beautiful…" Triste muttered softly, but Gin did not respond. "When I see her… I feel something… something very strange…" Gin's eyes turned curious as soon as she met his gaze again. "Ever since I transformed, since I woke up earlier… all the memories I look at suddenly come with emotions attached… That's never happened before, I've only been given hard facts and left to think for myself, but now… when I see the moment you and the others left Soul Society, when that woman is beside you… I can't explain what I feel. I do not know what this feeling is…" she faded, looking to him hopefully, but Gin's eyes were sad along with the sympathetic smile he gave her.

"You can't tell?"

Triste shook her head. "The emotions are too jumbled up, I'm afraid… I can feel the greed and bloodlust clearly, even the twisted amusement, but… there is some kind of pain too, mixed with sadness and yet… happy, too… but every time I feel that joy, it hurts so badly… why? Why do I feel this way?"

His sympathetic smile did not falter. "Because that's how it is."

She had no idea what to say. What did he mean? Did it mean to be happy means to be sad at the same time? But how do you develop a relationship like that with someone? How does one's presence invoke both joy and pain at the same time? She just didn't understand!

And in that moment of confusion and frustration, his sad smile still her main focus, her demonic eye suddenly glowed blue, her left just barely flickering in response. Gin noticed these lights, recognizing them as a sign they were activated, but none of his memories were being taken, and her shocked expression told him she was definitely seeing something… but what?

Then, quite shakily, Triste focus seemed to return to him, and her eyes seemed much sadder than before. "What did you see?"

Triste did not answer immediately, her eyes quivering as she stared into his, obviously debating whether or not to tell him, until finally she spoke: "I… saw your future…"

His interest was piqued, but he could not help but worry about her distress.

"And?"

She shook her head solemnly, avoiding his gaze. "No… I can't…"

"Is my fate really so bleak?" he asked, a little disheartened, but it was hard to pick up on with that overwhelming smile.

Suddenly her eyes met his, much more firmly than before. "Fate does not exist. Know that nothing is ever certain, not even the images my eye shows me. One's fate and destiny are not predetermined, always remember that! They must be worked for, or worked against if you so choose, but _nothing _is ever certain!"

Gin was hardly fazed by her lecture, actually giving her a light shrug before meeting her eyes casually once again. "Then will you tell me what you saw?"

There was a strong pause before Triste finally said "No. For that is another thing about predicting the future: what you don't know can't be knowingly affected."

"Well, that seems kind of obvious, doesn't it?"

"No, what I mean to say is, that if I don't tell you what I saw, there's still a chance that it won't happen. The minute you know, nothing you could possibly do will stop the situation from arising, and not very often can the outcome be affected at will.

"For example: I have already seen a vision involving Ulquiorra's future. If I say nothing to him, there is a chance that it may not happen. Should I try to warn him, the situation will come about no matter what, but what he may choose to do at that moment _can _be affected. And what I have seen of you, I…" she faded rather quickly, a little embarrassed to say it, "… I don't want it to happen…"

Gin smile returned, but this time it was not sad or sympathetic, or even mocking, but a genuine smile. "Very well then. Come on, then, I've had enough reminiscing for one day! If you're ready, I'll take you to Aizen…"

Triste was slow to nod, but thankful for Gin's understanding just the same. She really didn't want it to happen, for his and Rangiku's reunion to be like that…

They left Triste's room in silence, Gin leading her through the shifting hallways up to the balcony where Aizen liked to reside. It was a moderately short walk, and when they arrived, Aizen was sitting in his chair comfortably with Tousen not far off, rigid as if on guard.

"Welcome back, Gin… Triste," Aizen's smooth voice called out to them without even turning his chair around. As they drew closer, Tousen's gaze seemed to narrow, not just towards Triste, but towards Gin as well.

Aizen's chair swiveled around smoothly as they approached, the smug bastard already smiling before even laying eyes on them. Just that first look at his cocky smile and those dark eyes made Triste think once again about how devilishly good looking he could be sometimes – much to her misfortune.

"Good evening, Triste. Are we feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"On the contrary, I haven't seen you since your little talk with Ulquiorra."

As much a relief as it was to hear it – and her eye to confirm it – she already knew this. That is what made it easier for she and Gin to talk…

But before another word could be exchanged, another voice chimed in aggressively: "What is the meaning of this, Ichimaru?! Don't you have work to do?"

Gin, back to his normal, careless nature, merely pouted in response, that false smile of his hiding just behind it. "Aren't I working? As Aizen asked, I am tending to our guest." With that, he turned back to Aizen with smile returned: "She wishes to speak with you."

"Oh?" he straightened up slightly, "Very well. What can I do for you?" he asked as he came to a stand before her like a hot bastard once again, Triste only slightly affected, refusing to allow herself to be suddenly attracted to this devil of a man. She had made the mistake of liking Gin, she wouldn't do so again lightly.

"Forgive me if I've interrupted anything, but I had some thing to say," she managed to reply firmly.

"I'm listening."

Damn.

_No! _she told herself firmly, switching her optical focus to her right eye, the devil's eye, an eye that bore no emotion, seeing only the truth. Her resolve, she noticed, solidified quickly:

"First off, I'd like to thank you for the hospitality you've provided me – though it could use some improvements – and the chance to be around others without stealing their energy. Though it wasn't perfect, the removal of my mask has lessened my hunger significantly."

In the slight pause following, Aizen remained intact: "But?"

With a shake of the head, Triste sighed deeply once again: "But I cannot join your campaign, cannot stay here. My ideals differ from yours, and I have no qualms with the Shinigami or humans. I will not devote myself to another lord, and I will not fight," she added more firmly. "Besides, you saw me earlier: I need energy to fight. I may no longer feel hunger, but I'm still starving myself and I refuse to take any more if I can help it."

Silence once again followed, the determined look in her one good eye proving just how much she meant what she said. _A Vasto Lorde with a conscience… She's worse than Neleil. _

"Are you sure you want to leave us? You would be a great asset after all," he replied smoothly, drawing slightly closer, as if to intimidate her even more despite his supposed acceptance.

"Thank you, but I cannot. Gin has already tried persuading me, but I am not as head-over heels for him as you think."

Aizen's smile returned. "Of course not. That eye of yours probably saw through it long ago, am I right?"

"Partially," she replied, dropping her gaze a moment as she caressed the demonic eye with a sort of sentimentality, "but I believe in giving people a chance to show their true colors – I do not like to rely on this cursed eye," she finished with a touch of anger. When she returned to Aizen's eyes, a faint smile revealed itself: "Besides, he _was_ an obvious choice after how I reacted upon first seeing him."

This time Aizen's grin broadened, almost to the point of chuckling. To see a sincere smile upon that face was a rarity Triste was lucky to witness, but all she could think of was how much better he looked.

"That's what I like about you, Triste: you are true to your beliefs, staying neutral, even though you have the intelligence of a Vasto Lorde."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You mean because I still bear their darker tendencies."

His eyes also narrowed, leaving that smile of his a devious smirk. "That's exactly what I'm talking about…" His voice was dark and alluring, his fingers rising to caress the skin along her jaw, tilting her chin in a very tempting way. A shiver passed through her as he leaned closer, whispering softly "Despite everything you've been through, you do not give in to the darkness unlike other Hollows. You would be the most powerful Vasto Lorde if you simply chose to be, and yet you starve yourself relentlessly for the sake of your sanity… Who knew such a rarity would come before me in such a world as this…"

As their eyes met a moment longer, the air around them thick with tension, Triste suddenly quirked a smile as she pulled his hand away and took a step back. "Don't try sweet talking me now – I've already made up my mind."

That smile of his did not waver as she moved away, still enjoying the way she was handling the situation no matter what predicament he put her in.

With a faint shrug of the shoulders, Aizen shifted his head, giving his smile a look of superiority as he looked down upon her. "Very well then. But know I shall be sad to lose you. If you ever change your mind, you will always have a place amongst us…"

And then, to her bewildered amazement, he reached his hand out genially, as a gesture of kindness and understanding. She looked to his eyes for confirmation, finding a clear light in his eyes and the remains of the once devious grin now looking less malicious. Was this for real?

After a moment's debate, Triste finally reached out her own hand to his, to trust him in this last gesture of good will. As soon as their hands shook, Triste's eyes flared as an overwhelming blast of reiatsu hit her. Aizen's wicked smirk had returned.

Her body grew heavy with the intense spiritual pressure that bore down on her, her body barely able to breath. And then, with no control, both of their bodies were surrounded in a pink aura, her leeching powers absorbing this free dosage of power instinctively, eagerly. Her head began to spin, her devil eye glowing bright blue as it stared directly into Aizen's malignant face – even her left eye began to burn like before, her new scar suddenly turning black to emphasize its existence – and soon her hand was burning intensely in his grip.

The immense surge of power faded almost instantly as Aizen released his hold on her, her body wavering just slightly as she gasped loudly, taking in a great breath of air after nearly suffocating in Aizen's reiatsu, the pink aura retreating back into her soul rapidly. Her eyes quivered as they stared off at nothing, shaking from the large dosage of raw energy her body had just taken in, the power that had enslaved her brothers and sisters… she could only imagine to what ends he used this magnificent force.

Slowly her gaze dropped to her hand, still raised in the air, feeling the heat fade, seeing smoke rise up from a peculiar black mark that encompassed her palm. As the smoke cleared, she could only stare in alarm at the familiar shape.

Aizen's smirk was as obvious as ever, even without seeing it: "… Espada Cero."

* * *

So, for those up-to-date with the manga, they now see my predicament! Tite Kubo! Why...?! He doesn't deserve that number! Especially considering Triste kicked his ass! cry...


	9. Returning Home

**Returning Home**

Barely able to meet his eyes again, Triste's hand slowly dropped back to her side, the black 'zero' making it itch irritably. Her anxiety was growing and all she wanted to do now was escape this horrid fortress, this horrible man before her.

With a shaky step backward, fighting to remain calm, she glanced back into Aizen's smug smile, fumbling a "Goodbye," nodding her farewell to Gin, while hardly even glancing Tousen's way before turning hastily towards the exit.

But before she could get very far, she suddenly slowed back to a stop, the other's unable to tell what she was doing; her fingers caressed both eyes, feeling them, remembering the visions she'd seen while under Aizen's blast of reiatsu, the words of the past fluttering back into her mind eerily…

"Before I go," she spoke up, turning back to them once again with her voice back under control, all three visible in a single shot, "there is one more thing I must do. While amongst you, I have seen many things with this eye of mine… Because I have pried into your past, I feel it is only fair to warn you of your futures."

With these words, all three seemed to grow more focused. She had seen their futures?

Gin's curiosity seemed the strongest, only because of her words in the bedroom. She hadn't wanted to tell him… did something change that? Or was this something else?

Her eyes narrowed as she stared back, her voice sharp: "Beware the strawberries… all of you… or the fires will burn you."

Without waiting for a response, Triste turned yet again and left the balcony, walking tall with pride in tact. Her eye allowed her the pleasure of knowing their reactions:

As soon as she had spoken the ominous warning, there was only a short moment of consideration before all three came to some dark conclusion, neither Aizen nor Gin left smiling.

Triste had not traveled far before encountering a familiar face one last time, meeting his cold green eyes as callously as ever. "Ulquiorra…"

"I see you are full again."

"Yes, Aizen left me with a parting gift," she replied darkly, her right fist tightening. Without even being told, Ulquiorra knew what it was.

"You do know why…"

"Of course I do, but I will not let that keep me here. Just as you said, I am finally using this eye to my advantage… I will not let it rule me any longer, nor will I let that man control me like a puppet."

"And what of that new eye? It has changed since before."

Again, Triste felt the rim of her eye… Ulquiorra could only watch as she closed her eye while the crosshair pupil swiveled to the side, as if trying to see the other eye… And when her eye reopened, she seemed more steady than before: "I see… This new marking is just as significant as the Hollow's eye, something that connects me to my past, while working in unison with the other eye, though it is in fact its opposite."

Ulquiorra didn't understand, but at the same time, didn't really care. As long as she understood, and had gained some form of control over the King's gift, that was all that mattered. She could now stand on her own feet after years of solitude, sorrow, and fear.

"Are you sure you won't leave?" Triste decided to ask one last time, still hopeful, even though deep down she knew what the answer was.

"No. This is my place now, at Aizen-sama's side."

Though her eye showed a faint trace of sadness, Triste sighed and shook her head with a sad smile, "I thought so… I don't suppose you heard the warning I gave to Aizen, did you?"

"… No. I'm afraid I missed that one. Another foretelling, I suppose?"

"Yes, but it is one that you have already heard… it applies to quite a number of you. Ask Aizen about it, and you will understand, I promise."

Ulquiorra did not answer, debating whether or not he would actually ask, but Triste's eye seemed to hone in on this: "_Ask him_."

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

"Now I must go…" she spoke softly as she moved to leave once again, walking right past him. "Though it wasn't always pleasant, thanks for your help, Ulquiorra… I was wrong to have doubted the King's faith in you."

As soon as she passed by, his cold words came fluttering back: "No, you weren't."

Triste hesitated at this comment, hurt that he should still reject her so painfully. No, she wouldn't let herself get caught up in this timeless struggle. She might never see Ulquiorra again, she didn't want this to be an unpleasant goodbye. And then it struck her…

"I will not argue with you on the matter, nor will I renounce my thoughts. However, as an extra warning especially for you, I shall say only one thing… take it easy on the 'pet'… she is only human."

As soon as she finished, Ulquiorra instantly turned around, beyond curious of these words, but Triste was already walking away calmly… "Goodbye, Ulquiorra…"

Her body faded into the shadows, Ulquiorra left alone in the narrow hallway, still stunned by her words. _A human pet? _

* * *

Back at the balcony ledge, the discomfort the three ex-Shinigami had experienced as a result of Triste's prognosis had finally eased. Nothing detailed was spoken, but Tousen did voice one major concern: "Do you think she meant…?"

"It's possible," Aizen replied hastily, not allowing him to finish the statement. _Strawberries… fire that burns… that Ryoka boy… _"For now, we won't worry about it. Once our fortifications are complete and more Vasto Lorde have been located, we shall look into it. But not now…" he concluded easily before making his way back over to his chair.

As he settled comfortably, Tousen could not help but question the motives with which Aizen had acted on with Triste. "Aizen-sama… why did you allow that woman to take your energy?"

His lips quirked slightly, "I couldn't possibly let her go without restoring some of her strength… And besides, I had to give her a number, didn't I?"

Tousen was not completely satisfied with this answer. "Why zero?"

"Triste doesn't wish to stay, so there's no point shifting the Espada's numbers. Besides the fact Triste won't tap into her full power to par with the others, her fights are worthless. She can drain her enemy despite any damage she takes, but she won't kill and would probably prevent others from doing it as well." He turned in his chair to gaze out at the expanse of Las Noches and the sands beyond, an endless desert of endless possibilities. "No… she is best on her own. But I would gladly welcome her back if she ever returned."

Gin, his smile having returned, could not help but think of how Aizen had gone so far as to try and persuade her with physical seduction, remembering a comment he made the very day Triste had been found: _"You really like to toy with other's hearts, don't you?"_

With everything in mind, he tilted his head with slight amusement. "You _meant _to give her a taste, didn't you?"

Aizen did not answer, but his smile was apparent.

Tousen turned at an approaching presence, sensing the familiar aura of the fourth Espada; "Ulquiorra, what is it?"

"I'm afraid Triste has burdened me with asking about a prediction she made. She seemed adamant that I hear it."

Aizen's chair swiveled once again, allowing him to side glance the indifferent Vasto Lorde, wondering what connection he might have to those words. Was he to face off with that boy perchance? "Did she? Well then, I suppose I have no choice but to tell you. Her exact words were "beware the strawberries… all of you… or the fires will burn you."

Aizen's eyes narrowed.

Ulquiorra had reacted, something that was very rare, but there was no mistaking the shocked look upon his face, the way his eyes widened as if recognizing something in the message. _It's just as she said… a warning I've already heard… _

"Tell me… what do these words mean to you?"

It was a moment before his eyes settled, turning to Aizen evenly though still in great thought: "This is not the first time I've heard this message, first spoken by our king in his dying moments… he spoke them with his last breath. We knew it was some kind of foresight, but at the time, none of us could decipher what he had said… but there is no doubt in my mind that is what he tried to tell us, to 'beware the strawberries.'"

"And there is nothing else to it?" Tousen asked.

Ulquiorra met his gaze and shook his head softly, "The king's words are all I know. What it may pertain to is unknown to me."

"I see…" Aizen replied, dipping his head slightly in further consideration, trying to connect everything, to piece it all together. _So even their king predicted a problem with red heads… She said all three of us were to be careful, and must have had some other purpose for making sure Ulquiorra heard about it… he and the other Espada may be a part of this prophecy as well. _

Suddenly all were distracted by a high pitched call, a cry that echoed around them as an unusual creature flew high overhead, a bird of some sort… Aizen smiled to himself. _Of course… that mark on her left eye… it was the same as the large eye that appeared in the sand during her fight with Grimmjow… _He sighed inaudibly. _Such an amazing specimen… if only we could have been allowed to study her…_

It was such a pity that he would miss his chance for study by only a week, but of course he had no way of knowing that a new Hollow would soon be discovered who bore the same, sick scientific tendencies as him, who would have loved the chance to dissect Triste just as much as him.

_Oh well. Now that that's over, we can move on to the next phase…_

* * *

Triste's feet touched the soft white sand gently, filling her body with a familiar warmth that she had not felt in days. She was out of Las Noches, she was free! Free to roam the sands once again, to bathe in the light of the moon like before… She may have a different body now, but her feelings for this dark and lonely desert would never change: it was the place she belonged – it was home.

"What are you doing here, Grimmjow?"

From the shadows around the great doorway, the blue-haired warmonger stepped into the light, stopping not far from where Triste stood, just feet behind her. "Where are you going?"

"Anywhere… as long as it isn't here it doesn't matter."

"Hmph, running away again?" he scowled, but Triste took no offense, barely even shaking her head.

"Call it what you will, but I simply cannot stay here. This is not the place for me… I belong out there, free and alone. After all the time I've spent here, I realize that now… _this _is where I belong," she replied strongly, gesturing out to the desert.

"Psht, whatever…" was his only remark.

Triste turned softly to face him, giving him a moment to get over her new look before asking once again "Why are you here, Grimmjow?"

His eyes narrowed sharply before turning to glare at the wall. "Tell me about your king."

_Hmm? The king? Why would he…? _And suddenly it dawned on her, his memories returning to her. "Ah, I see… Why do you want to know? Do you wish to compare methods or simply to hear how another Hollow took lead of a band of warriors?"

His eyes returned to hers, but his glare had deepened. He hated to be treated like this, to be talked down to with that air of calm superiority – to think that she knew his past – he hated it!

"Where do I begin?" she started. "He was an efficient leader, who never let the others forget who was in charge… He was a powerful and magnificent fighter, the one who taught me most of what I know… And even though I was a hopeless excuse for a Hollow let alone a Vasto Lorde, who was desired dead by all of his subordinates, he let me join him in his campaign…

"He was the only one who gave me the time of day, who treated me like an equal… We were so similar, I often wonder if he had faced a similar fate as me in the early years, but he never shared his past with any of us, and this eye has never shown me much concerning his life, so it is in fact a complete mystery… But because of the unusual bond that we had, he gave me this eye, the most powerful of his physical senses…"

"What do you mean?"

"The king bore more than just this eye – he had other relics attached to him, all part of an original set from ancient times. Of the six of us, he gave five one of these relics, boosting our powers in one way or another, allowing us unusual gifts that otherwise would be impossible to achieve."

"What about the sixth guy? What did he get?"

Triste hesitated as she remembered that day once again. "The sixth Vasto Lorde… was Ulquiorra. Because he denied the position of king, he was given the king's 'sixth sense,' a mental property that takes thousands of years to obtain on one's own. It was because of his decision that I was then donned with this eye… or who knows…? Perhaps the king meant for me to have it all along?"

Grimmjow was not interested in her idle ramblings, more concerned with what she had told him about Ulquiorra's gift. It certainly explained a few things, that was for sure.

"Grimmjow," she started, "I know that you, too, were once known as a king among your peers. The two of you followed different paths, but you are no less a leader than he. What matters is the decisions you make and how you lead…" In the following pause, her eyes grew sad and distant, a faint blue light shining from the devilish eye.

"I want you to remember one thing before I go… You are not the only one. Whatever you do in life, however you decide to live, there are others out there who are following their own ideals, and no matter how much you may think you are better or stronger or more worthy, you are not the only one out there that matters."

As usual, another moment of silence followed Triste's words, her eyes still watching him sorrowfully, despite the infuriated reaction he gave:

"What a load of crap! What the hell are you even saying?! That I should let others win because they have a better reason?! What bullshit!"

Though she wanted to smile because of his everlasting energy and rebellious nature, she could not help but think of what she'd seen, of the ordeals he would some day meet in the face of the 'strawberry' and his 'fire.'

"Despite what you may think, there are some causes more worthy than your own ambition… It may not seem like much now, but one day you'll understand… Goodbye, Grimmjow. And good luck…"

Without another word exchanged, Triste resumed her exit of Las Noches, walking out into the desert with the wind in her hair and the sand shifting beneath her feet, leaving behind the world of Las Noches and Aizen with his precious Espada… she was finally free once again…

Still standing in the doorway, watching her go, Grimmjow looked just as displeased as ever with the words she'd spoken to him. He did not understand her ability to foretell the future, thus not knowing she had seen what was to happen to him. As such, he did what he could to forget her nonsensical words, turning back to the interior of Las Noches in order to begin training… if he ever ran into Triste again, he wanted to prove her wrong, to prove that he _was_ the best, and he _was_ all that mattered…

* * *

Nearly a mile from Las Noches, Triste walked determinedly, still intent on all the visions she'd seen in that place, both past and future. But things were different now that she had this new eye; just as she had explained to Gin, her right eye always showed her the cold, hard truth, but her left eye now showed her why: why they did what they did, their thoughts and reasons, their feelings…

In most cases, it made the truth a lot more bearable, the past and future now less painful to endure, leaving her to suffer only at the hands of the present.

She stopped as a sharp cry split the air, her heart soon beating to the rhythm of flapping wings. Slowly, her gaze began to wander until finding the creature, a strange bird that swooped down at her, perching itself elegantly on a nearby tree.

Triste's heart skipped a beat as it recognized this presence, this aura that filled her with exhilarating warmth… "Horus."

"Yes, Triste, it is I," he replied smoothly with a soft nod of the head. He was different now (obviously), no long taking on the form of a simple sword, but now bearing the strong body of a hawk – with a Hollow's mask, no less.

His wings and tail feathers were the same robin blue as Triste's hair, perhaps a bit darker, while the rest of his feathers matched the burgundy she once bore for skin. And like her released state, every single one of Horus's feathers were sharp and shiny, razorblades covering his body like scales. His mask was pure white, of course, a set of small spikes flaring out at the back like Triste's had done, with a sharp beak at the front.

However, there was another set of features that almost chilled her to the bone… and then made her love him even more: his eyes were just like hers.

One eye was a rich burgundy, surrounded by a black outline, while the other was wicked blue, with a crosshair for a pupil. The only difference was that they had been switched: it was left eye that bore the devilish cross, while the right was surrounded in black detail.

"Horus… what has happened to you? Where have you been?!"

"Forgive me for leaving you, Triste," he replied quietly, though his lips did not move – they were still bound by thought. "After you reverted back to this state, that is when I was able to take control and guise myself as a hawk, fleeing while everyone was blinded by the light. I have spent all this time perfecting my new body… I could hear you calling out to me, but I wasn't quite ready to come back. I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter anymore… You're back and that all that matters!" she replied with a sad smile as she wrapped her hands around him gently, hugging him as best she could as she rubbed her cheek into his scaly feathers, completely unharmed. "Oh, Horus… I remember now… I remember everything. I remember you."

The hawk dipped his head slowly, "I see… then you must be aware that I am no mere sword."

"I am. When I was alive, living in my homeland, the village sacrificed me in your honor, to let me return to the gods in exchange for good crops."

"Yes. You were indeed a strong young girl, with powers beyond the mortal world, and though I was grateful to have you under my guidance, I was angered. I gave them bountiful crops, but set fire to them right before the harvest, so that they may understand what its like to live so happily and have it snatched out from underneath them – just as they did to you."

Triste did not know whether or not she was particularly glad to hear that. One part of her was saddened by their grief, while another was satisfied with vengeance. _No, it doesn't matter… it has been centuries since then, and they are no longer alive. It's all in the past… all that matters is the now. _

But Horus wasn't finished yet. "I tried to help your wandering soul, but there was little I could do. You had forgotten how you died, thus there was no way for you to join me in my kingdom. And so, I did what I could to protect you from the Hollows and Shinigami, until you could join me in my realm. That is why you had such little contact with those two forces.

"But as you wandered farther and farther, my powers grew weaker and I could not see you so well. It was then that your chain began to encroach. By the time you became a full Hollow, I knew I had lost you… For years, I had given up hope, thinking you lost forever… until you returned to the sands, and I felt your familiar aura return.

"I saw your misery, and your encounter with that boy and those Hollows… when you entered Hueco Mundo, where the moon rules and there is more sand than my country."

Triste had no idea how to respond to any of this. In all honesty, she wished he hadn't told her any of it, leaving her past so much simpler – it was complex enough as it was without knowing the god's hand in it all.

"In my kingdom, I am known for my eyes: the right one is the sun, while the left is the moon. And even though you were in a different world, a place where the moon, though constant, is only partially visible, I could still feel you here in Hueco Mundo.

"It was only until recently that I felt your presence more strongly, when I felt your mask shatter. With the aid of Anubis, God of the Netherworld, I was able to infiltrate this place and attach myself onto the sword right as you touched it…"

"So… you really _are _Horus, aren't you? That's not just the name of a zanpakutou?"

"I'm afraid not, Triste, though only a portion of my persona is present with you. What I represent as your zanpakutou is a mere fragment of my power, while the rest must remain in the mortal world, where I continue to look over my people of the desert."

"Hmph… the power of a god… I suppose it is this power that Aizen seeks."

"I believe you are right. It is a great temptation for any who seeks power, but there is no easy way to attain it – be grateful for that. If that man were to grow as powerful as I, I shudder to think what would become of any of our worlds," he replied darkly, actually shaking his feathers at the thought.

"I know what you mean… but… have you seen what I have? Have you seen the 'strawberries' and 'fires'?"

Horus did no answer immediately, transfixing his eyes on hers with suspense… A blinding flash of blue light flared from his devil's eye, and Triste knew that, somehow, he had just absorbed her memories and the visions she had seen.

"Hmm…" was his only response for a while, his eyes wandering aimlessly as he sorted through the visions. "I see. But do you think it was wise to share this information with Aizen?"

"I think so… Besides, it is a very old prophecy, and I did not speak of anything specific, merely warning them: after all, all three of the ex-Shinigami have a redhead to look out for… and all three will be burned by their fires."

And though she didn't admit it aloud to Horus, she also liked having the last word on Aizen. He had been so confident the entire time, always smiling, and she wanted to wipe that smile right off his face. Needless to say, it worked.

"And what of Ulquiorra? Or how about Grimmjow?"

"The same warning applies to them… they, too, will face the redheads. But both need to understand that they can't always have it their way… In time, they will understand my words. Even after the events I have seen come to pass, I know they will still struggle, but overall, I feel it will be for the better…"

Horus did not reply in anyway, considering her words and wondering what she could be thinking beyond their link. Perhaps she was already seeing more of the future? Though his eyes resembled hers, he could not see distant events, only what she allowed him.

"At the very least," he finally spoke up again, "we can keep an eye on Las Noches no matter how far we should wander."

"Yes, and we will know when everything has begun…" she replied faintly.

While in her fight against Grimmjow, when she released her zanpakutou and transformed, Aizen and the others had noticed a large eye implanted in the sand, the same design that covered Triste's left eye. It was this mark, though now erased from the sands, that would allow Triste to peer into Las Noches on a whim, anywhere and everywhere, at least for awhile.

After another moment of silence, Horus finally got things moving once again: "Come, Triste. Let us leave this place…"

She nodded slowly in response, still lost in her thoughts. "Yes… but let's not wander too far. There is something I'd like to do first, and I will need your help."


	10. Secret Messages

**Secret Messages**

Later that 'night,' he was sleeping rather uncomfortably in bed, his head filled with disruptive images, voices, old memories that he longed to leave him alone…

He jerked awake restlessly, freed from the dreams, but also aware of something coming towards his room. He tried to sense who it was, to search out their reiatsu, but he could feel nothing but the instinctual feeling that someone was watching him.

It was then that a shadow crossed his floor, something blocking the moon's light in his window. When he looked up, his hand ready to grab his zanpakutou in an instant and destroy that which spied on him, he found the most unusual birdlike Hollow, perched in his window, staring back at him quietly.

He quirked a smile, about to make a remark when suddenly its eyes flashed: one blue, one burgundy. He froze at the sight, recognizing them all too well. And though the moon's light was behind it, he could still make out the markings around both eyes, distinguish the colors of his feathers… _Triste… _

* * *

Staggering heavily, a woman struggled to reach her room, her body teetering with every step, her eyes dizzy, her head spinning… Another 'festive' night with her favorite drinking buddies.

Rangiku finally managed to reach her bedroom, intent on going straight to bed without even changing her clothes first – she didn't drink as much as usual this time, which was extremely unusual considering the occasion. Then again, her captain had warned her about early examinations in the morning, and she knew she'd receive hell in multiple ways if she drank too much. Oh well, she could always continue the party another night – her usual drinking buddies would be glad to oblige, she was sure.

As soon as she went to open the door, however, a strange sensation passed through her. She did not recognize this feeling that overcame her, but it troubled her just the same… and it was coming from within her room.

_What is that? It doesn't feel like a Hollow… and I don't sense anyone's reiatsu, and yet there is definitely something in there!_

With a clearer head than since before she began drinking, Rangiku threw her door open, poised and ready for whatever lay in wait, her hand resting on Heineko in anticipation…

Rangiku froze: _What the…?_

There, straight ahead, sitting on her table and staring straight back at her was the most unusual bird she had ever seen. His feathers were blue and reddish, shining in the light of the candle beside it, a candle she had not lit since the night before. His face was white, and there were unusual shapes around his multi-colored eyes.

_It… it looks like a Hollow! But even as I stare at it, I can't feel its presence! … Oh, Rangiku! Surely you didn't pass out somewhere and are now dreaming this?!_

The hawk made no quick movements, hardly shuffling its wings once in a while as it continued to stare back. Suddenly it scratched at something on the table, a small piece of paper that lay under its sharp talons.

It kicked at the paper suddenly, shoving it forward before flying off the table and landing in the window sill where it turned back around in order to continue watching her.

Slowly, Rangiku made her way over to the table, barely remembering to shut the door behind her. She glanced down at the paper, something she did not recognize, before gazing at the bird once more.

Horus made a soft screech, attempting to point towards the table with his beak until she looked at the table once more and placed a curious hand on the paper.

_I must be hallucinating worse than I thought! I can't believe I'm actually doing what this Hollow bird is asking…_ she thought a little skeptically, picking it up tentatively while trying to remain in the light of the candle.

The paper was folded two ways, with no indication of a sender on the outside. When she opened it, however, she gasped aloud, her eyes widening in shock before turning back to the window, only to hear the bird's cry once more before it took off into the outside world.

"Wait!" she cried frantically, rushing to her window and throwing half her body out in a desperate attempt to find the bird: "Come back!" she cried, her eyes darting in every conceivable direction, but the night was dark and moonless, and no other source of light was available but the single candle that glowed behind her. The bird was lost.

"Please… come back…!" she whimpered once more dejectedly, feeling her heart twist at the thought that she may have missed such an important chance…

She pulled herself back through the window slowly, still feeling utterly defeated. She collapsed into the chair heavily, her eyes stuck on the piece of paper clutched tightly in her hands.

Her eyes poured over the words again and again, feeling her heart drop every time, hoping to fight the tears, but the sake in her system left her unable to control herself…

From outside her window, Horus had a perfect view of the entire thing, his eyes recording everything that he witnessed…

And suddenly she snapped.

"AHH!! YOU JERK!!"

Horus nearly lost his balance as an onslaught of screams and curses flooded through the open window, the young woman obviously forgetting the time of night as she yelled and threw random bits of furniture around the room, overwhelmed in her distraught rage.

Horus nearly fell from his perch amidst all the excitement, shocked by her reaction as well as a book that had Frisbeed past, clipping him in the wing.

_What a live wire! It seems odd that SHE would be Gin's fire… Hmm?_

After throwing the chair for a third time, Rangiku finally stopped her assault on the furniture, taking a moment to catch her breath, her shoulders heaving. Finally, she dropped to the floor, the note still crushed in her fist.

Her back to the window, Horus snuck forward in hopes of getting a better view of her. Had she finally exhausted herself? Or was she merely taking a break, wondering what else she could throw? He wondered how her neighbors took to all this raucous, but not a soul stirred – surely this wasn't common for her?

Finally at a better angle, Rangiku's head was hung, her eyes staring at the floor with a lost expression. Without even looking, her hand reached toward a nearby drawer, opening it and retrieving a pad of paper and pen.

Horus watched curiously as she began to write, her hand slowing with each character; after a moment of simply staring at the note, she tore it from the pad and folded it up neatly.

_Is she leaving a response? _Horus wondered from his perch, eyeing the note in her hand peculiarly.

She approached the window hesitantly, gazing out into the darkness, still searching for the Hollow bird, still unable to see him, before finally placing the note on the window sill, using a book to weight it down so the wind wouldn't claim it. Not that anyone would know who it was from, who it was for, or what it even meant, but there was only one person she wanted to read this. And the bird, if it was still around, would help her.

Horus nodded; a response.

After a few more seconds, Rangiku turned away from the window and slipped into a back room, out of Horus's view. When she returned, she was dressed in her night clothes, brushing her hair idly with eyes drawn to the floor. But as she passed by the table, her hand slowed and her eyes wandered back to the parchment.

With a resounding sigh, Rangiku replaced her brush with the note, holding it close as she read it once more, letting the pain of her thoughts overwhelm her.

She wanted to feel this way, she wanted to feel alive again, and if this was the only way…

And before she knew it, the other powerful emotions within her joined the pain, and when she tensed with anger, she crushed the paper in her hand. The surge only lasted a few moments, and when it passed, she looked apologetically upon the crumpled note in her hands, finding the inner words a little less legible. But she knew what they were. Nothing special, really, but powerful to her heart…

And then, to Horus's surprise, she lifted the note up over the glowing candle, holding the message just inches above the tall flame. Was she going to burn it? Was the 'fire' really going to do it? Triste had meant to help them, not let them go down in a puff of smoke!

But Rangiku did not move for the longest time, her hand beginning to shake after a while, still considering, debating the destruction of her only link… but she couldn't do it. Her hand dropped swiftly back to her side, crushing it once more in her balled up fist, while, Horus noticed, a tear slipped down her cheek.

She pulled the drawer open with a sharp jerk, placing the wrinkled note in the very back, hidden under other paraphernalia, before slamming it back shut. She strode back towards the window sill, glancing at the note she'd left, at the outside world where Horus hid, and then turned back to finally go to bed.

Horus waited for a while, making sure the full breasted woman had actually fallen asleep before swooping back onto her window sill, standing beside the paper weight and its content. He eyed it once more before gazing in at Rangiku, watching her in blissful sleep for several more seconds.

_This poor girl… I know not what Gin and the others have done to you, but it is obvious you are in pain… I wonder if Triste is right about this, about whether providing them some form of contact may actually help… I know not what she originally saw for their future, but… for this woman's sake, I hope she is right. _

Nudging the book aside, he took the note gently into his beak before glancing in at her one more time, feeling his heart sink a little more every time. But before he could turn to leave, taking the long trip back to Hueco Mundo, he noticed something of great significance.

The candle was still burning.

* * *

Needless to say, Gin could not go back to sleep after Horus's visit. He did not have the desire to face those dreams again, nor could he wait for the bird's return.

"So! This is what became of you!" Gin had called out to the hawk after recognizing it as Triste's zanpakutou. "To what do I owe this pleasure? Don't tell me she misses me already!" he grinned, playing around as always.

But Horus was serious, perhaps, in part, to his disapproval of the reason he was here: "Triste has sent me here with a proposition of sorts."

"Oh?"

"She wants to help you. She wants to help with your 'fire,'"

Gin's smile faltered at this comment. "I don't know what you mean."

"Your ability has no affect on us – you cannot lie to someone who sees the truth," Horus growled back, seeing only the faintest of reactions in Gin's vulpine nature. "Believe me when I tell you I have no qualms in leaving right now, but Triste believes she can get the cogs of time turning for you. Now I ask you this once and only once: would you like to send something to your 'fire?'"

Gin now shuffled restlessly in his bed, looking towards the window almost every time he thought he heard something. When was that blasted bird going to get back? What had Rangiku done when she saw it? Would she send anything back? He couldn't imagine she would. She probably got so riled up and started throwing things that the thought of replying wouldn't even come to mind.

Finally, the shuffle of feathers grew suddenly louder as the Hollow bird fluttered back through his open window, swooping down over Gin's bed.

Hiding his anticipation, Gin did not speak right away, but took great notice to the small piece of parchment clamped neatly in Horus's beak. His strange expression gave away his surprise.

The hawk dropped down to the bed at that moment, taking only a few short steps closer to the ex-Shinigami before delicately setting the note on the bed, taking a few cautious steps back again.

"Congratulations," Horus muttered almost cynically, "your fire still burns. She's even sent you something in return."

But before Gin could bring himself to open it, he turned curiously to Horus: "What did she do when she saw you?"

Horus's eyes narrowed. "You really want to know how she reacted?"

With barely a nod, Horus's devil eye flashed cerulean blue, images filling Gin's head, showing him everything that had happened, from her prepared entrance, to her shock with the letter, all the way up until the point where Horus took the note from the sill.

"Satisfied?"

But Gin's grin was weak, and he did not respond. _Well, I was right about throwing things, but… _his thoughts faded, his mind stuck on that one single image of her tear.

He thought he'd gotten used to such a sight a long time ago: she used to cry – or fight it, at the least – every time he'd come and go when they were children. But he hadn't seen it in so many years… and now…

"Forgive me for asking," Horus spoke up, shaking him free of his thoughts. "But what didyou write on that paper?" he inquired, wondering what he could have possibly written to get such a response from her.

His lips twitched with amusement. "It's something I used to say every time at this time of year to her…"

_"Sorry I missed your birthday, Ran-chan! How can I make it up to you?"_

Very slowly, Gin picked up the note with his nimble fingers, unfolding it tentatively, anxious to read it, and yet not wanting to either. He knew that if he read it, he would not be able to achieve the same resolve as before, the same denial, but at the same time he knew he couldn't go without reading it.

Horus watched closely as Gin's expression shifted slightly; the note was short, only a few words long, but he couldn't find the right reaction in himself to respond to her words. Using what few powers these impersonating eyes of his held, Horus read the note, and though he could not understand it on the same level as Gin, he could still feel the same hurt that he had sensed when Rangiku wrote it…

_"I want to say things haven't changed… but they have."_

Horus glanced up at Gin curiously as he finally let his hand drop away. He cocked his head, "What does it mean?"

But Gin did not answer, merely left his strange gaze to stare off at the far wall, trying to think of something, anything…

"I have one last request for you," Gin suddenly spoke, confusing Horus, as usual. "One last message, but no answer this time."

* * *

When morning rolled around and the sun shone blindingly through Rangiku's open window, she awoke irritably, her irritation focused both on the sun and the faintn headache the sake had left her with.

As soon as she sat up to close the window, she remembered the night's events, the bird that had brought that message from Gin, and her movements slowed dramatically.

With an air of sadness, Rangiku forced herself to a stand and walked solemnly to the sill. Almost fearing to look, she couldn't tell if she was relieved or saddened by the disappearance of the note she'd left for him. The book held nothing down but a single teal feather. _So it did come back… I wonder how he reacted to my note? Did he get the message? _She wondered miserably.

Sighing for the sake of sighing, she grabbed the book and feather before closing the shutters, allowing the brightness of the room to drop dramatically, the lone candle still lit on the table, nearly out of wax by now, keeping the table alight.

She set the book on the table absent-mindedly, too focused on the strange feather she now held. She twirled the feather curiously, never before seeing such a straight and sharp feather, yet still so light. It surprised her when one of the edges broke skin.

She put her finger to her mouth, to clean the wound with her tongue, tasting the slight bitterness of what little blood seeped through. With another careful glance at the Hollow feather, she set it gently on the table – she would hide it with the note later.

Rangiku glanced around the room lightly, daring to hope he might have sent another message. She had no idea what he might say, but that wasn't really the point, the point was, her heart, no matter how many times she had to beat it back, wanted another letter, wanted to believe that there was still something left of her old friend…

Disheartened, she forced herself into the back room to change into her black robes; she had to get ready for work, she had duties to take of… she needed a distraction…

Changing into a clean set of clothes, Rangiku slipped her pink scarf around her sleeves like usual before opening her door determinedly, ready for a new day…

She stopped instantly, frozen in shock once again.

There, just beneath an extended foot, lay a beautiful yellow chrysanthemum, its reddish tipped petals reflecting the sun's light magnificently. Wrapped neatly around the stem was a shiny silver ribbon.

Shakily, her foot landed to the side as she slowly knelt down to retrieve the flower. As she rose to a stand, she held the bloom close, her fingers caressing the smooth petals tenderly as she inhaled its sweet aroma… Her eyes fell on the silver ribbon, her breath faint as she caressed the silk. _… Gin…_

Old memories flooded back, back to the days of childhood and survival in Rukongai with Gin.

It was Gin who had given her a birthday – the day they first met – and Gin was almost never around for it, always saying "Sorry I missed your birthday, Ran-chan! How can I make it up to you?" when he would return. She would always try to make him feel bad, but that smile of his never faltered, and never left her angry for long.

But he would come through for her. Almost every time he would hurt her like that, or miss her birthday, he would give her a chrysanthemum just like the one she now held, gold with a reddish tint. He used to say it matched her hair, that it was the meaning behind her name. And in response, Rangiku would tie a bow around the stem, whether it was really ribbon or just a piece of torn blanket, as long as it was gray or silver, for his own name, or a really light purple to match his hair as well.

The words of her note rang in her ears: _I want to say things haven't changed…_

She sniffed back a tear threatening to spill; _… but they have…_

"Matsumoto!"

Rangiku snapped back to a reality in a flash, trying her damnedest to hide her emotions as her captain approached, eyeing her slightly disapprovingly as he approached with arms crossed. If not for the secret gifts, this would be a normal day.

"Taichou…" she spoke, less enthused than she meant it to be.

"It's about time you woke up! I…" he faded suddenly, taking notice to the pretty chrysanthemum in her hand, realizing on a side note that it was the meaning behind Rangiku's name, but had no idea what she was doing with it. He eyed her accusingly, "A gift?"

Her eyes dropped to the bloom easily, still fighting back the emotions as she gazed into the blossom's center, her mind able to picture Gin's smiling face. "I'm not sure… but I think…" she faded, stopping herself from continuing the sentence as she realized she was thinking aloud.

Toushiro had waited for her to either continue or make something up, but nothing came. It seemed something, maybe the flower, was bothering her… He sighed. "Come on, Matsumoto. We've work to do."

Rangiku met his eyes silently for a moment before smiling brightly in response. "Right! Give me just a second!" she replied cheerily, her old self returning.

Brought back to her usual self, she turned back into her room, heading towards the drawer with the note. But as she reached it, ready to open it, she hesitated.

She stared at the flower once more, taking a moment to smile to herself, despite the painful nostalgia that still filled her heart. With great care, she set the flower easily on her bedside table, out in the open, with the feather just beneath it. When she came home tonight, she would admire it again, hold it close and breathe in its scent… no matter how painful it would be…

_Gin… you're such an idiot sometimes…_

She rejoined her captain a moment later, still smiling as she followed him to the main office, completely forgetting the candle she had left going in her room. She had not blown it out, but left it to survive as long as possible.

"Oh, before I forget, I found this," Toushiro spoke, pulling a small book from inside his robes, handing it to her with slight agitation.

Rangiku took it curiously, eyeing the large gash that went straight through, like someone cut it with a sword, but the edges were rough and multiple. Suddenly, she realized this was one of her books, one she must have thrown out the window in her fit last night. And as she eyed the gashes, she noticed the small cut on her finger.

_… The feather? Did I just happen to throw the book at the bird last night? _She wondered, amazed by her instinctive aim, amazed by the damage done with a single wing.

Of course she couldn't tell her Taichou what had happened, but before she could think up an excuse, she found him to be more sour than usual. Before she could ask, the answer suddenly hit her – this was a book he had bought her.

With a nervous laugh, she slipped it into her robes quietly, hoping her Taichou would remain silent in the realization that this was Rangiku he was dealing with – it was usually the case, sense this kind of thing was almost regular for them.

She was glad when he came through for her – she wouldn't have had a good explanation.

"So," he finally spoke, "how was your birthday celebration last night?"

* * *

Horus soared effortlessly through the night sky of Hueco Mundo, finally locating his companion amongst a small gathering of dead trees, resting at their base easily, waiting for his return.

He shifted his wings into a diving formation, bringing him swooping down on her in a flash, opening his wings just in time to catch the wind, allowing him a safe and gentle landing in the tree in front of her. As he landed, finally able to see her properly once again, he found he could not take his eyes away from that smile.

_She's smiling… it has been so long since I've seen that pure and gentle smile of hers. Since becoming a Hollow, it has been a tremendous rarity, and since coming to Las Noches, there have only been a few, and none were quite so genuine as this._

"Welcome back, Horus," she called gently, meeting his identical eyes. "How did things go?"

"Well, I think. Your little friend seemed quite willing to send a message when I offered…" he replied, right before a flash of blue light flared from his demonic eye, Triste's flashing in response, taking in everything that he had seen: Gin, his large breasted friend, her reaction and answer to his note, Gin's response, his final request…

"I see…" she spoke softly, her grin growing deeper and more significant. "I'm glad…"

And with that, she brought herself to a stand and turned away from Las Noches once again, intent on moving on, leaving the large fortress behind.

Horus cocked his head curiously, taking to the air once more in order to follow after her; he eyed her unusually. "Has anything changed between them? Now that they have been allowed to connect once again?"

Triste's smile did not falter: "I don't know."

"What? But I thought the eye…"

"The eye does not show me everything, especially when I want to know.

"When I mentioned their future to Gin, I did not tell him what happened – which means it may or may not happen, whether or not they had made contact. What _has_ changed is the possible circumstances under which they will meet. When next they meet, there may be some form of understanding between them… In the end, that may be all I was able to afford them. Their future is their own to forge, no matter what this eye may see… it's just as I told him: there is no predetermined fate or destiny, everything is subject to change… everything…"

Horus remained silent, considering what she said, understanding it all to a point, but still unable to comprehend "Why, then?"

Her eyes shifted to his almost playfully, "Why does anyone do anything? As a god, you should know this better than anyone."

Horus did not answer yet again.

She smirked. "Come, Lord Horus, let us travel to the farthest reaches of Hueco Mundo and see this world for more than what it is… I would like to accomplish much more before we have to return."

He blinked curiously at these words. "Return?"

"Yes… we will return to Las Noches again, not too far from now… after their war, I think. Many reforms will be needed then, and those that are left will need assistance…"

His eyes narrowed: "And it is you who will bring them together again?"

If Triste nodded, it was indistinguishable, and she gave no other sign of acknowledgement.

Silence followed.

They continued to distance themselves further from Las Noches, neither speaking to the other. Triste seemed to be staring straight ahead, towards nothing else but the distant lands that awaited them, to the future that awaited her…

But Horus's focus was on her. She seemed so intent on what lay ahead, as if the vision she had seen solidified her resolve to live this new life, with more control over those eyes and a better understanding of them, herself, and the world around her. There was a bounce to her step that he had not seen since before her death, or, what he had not seen, since she followed her beloved king, but this new air about her was stronger and more confident than ever, despite everything that has happened…

_She has grown so strong since the moment she died, dealing with everything all on her own, facing the consequences of her actions, fighting to remain true to her conscience and uphold her beliefs, having to live with that accursed eye… She has been alone for so long, it seems strange that a place of maniacal Arrancar and twisted ex-Shinigami could help change her into this new person… I thought I only had to thank them for reuniting us, but it appears I may owe them more than that. _

His eyes wandered to her right hand, seeing small glimpses of the black mark Aizen had left her with. _Espada Cero… A meaningless number, and yet it comes before one… it is neither positive nor negative, a digit all its own… I believe I now understand your king's intention of giving you that eye, Triste… It was not only for your protection, as Ulquiorra claims, but I believe it is a mark to the throne. If Ulquiorra had accepted the position, he would undoubtedly have received the eye, while you would have been given his pool of knowledge in order to survive this cruel world… But because he didn't, you were the only one left he found fit to lead, but he could not tell you that, for you were still too young to understand and uphold the position. Now it seems that your time is fast approaching, and your vision may very well be proof of the kingdom you may yet lead…_

Triste, seeing his strange look from the corner of her eyes, turned to him curiously: "What is it, Lord Horus?"

He blinked heavily, shaking his head softly with a warm light to his cold eyes, "It is nothing…" … _my liege. _"I am merely content to finally be with you once again."

She smiled warmly, her smiles becoming more and more frequent. "As am I."

And so ends Triste's role in Las Noches, last seen heading off towards the distant sands of Hueco Mundo with her zanpakutou, the embodiment of her beloved god Horus, right beside her…

* * *

**A/N: That's it! That is the end of Triste... or is it? I'm thinking of doing a follow up for her that takes place after everything has been taken care of, so if there's anyone who wouldn't mind, even if you wouldnt read another one, give me some guesses of what you think will happen by the end of it all (ex: who is going to die, how they might die, or any other 'special' events) because my own sanity will require I go on with it.**

**Thanks for reading! I hope it wasn't too bad! Please give feedback!**

**-Jet**


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